


Diners x Drive Ins x Dives (ダイナーズ x ドライブインズ x ダーイブズ)

by JoeysWritingCorner



Category: Hunter X Hunter, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Flavortown, Gen, Memes, why am I doing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 05:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 50,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeysWritingCorner/pseuds/JoeysWritingCorner
Summary: Guy Fieri is a talented yet underappreciated chefs apprentice, with big dreams and even bigger frosted tips. When an opportunity for glory presents itself to the young chef, nothing will be the same. Will he find the ultimate flavor and become the next  Food Network superstar?Disclaimer: Any real people in this story are portrayed in a wildly exaggerated and/or fictitious way. Hunter x Hunter and all characters affiliated belong to Yoshihiro Togashi. JoJo's Bizarre Adventure and all characters affiliated belong to Hirohiko Araki.





	1. One x Angry x Customer

“WHERE’S THE LAMB SAUCE?!”

That was a sentence that young Guy Fieri knew all too well. Known all throughout Meteor City for his exquisite cooking talents, Fieri started working at Meteor City’s finest eatery, The Spider Shack, at the tender age of 6. The Spider Shack was closer to a fast food joint despite having an elegant 5-star menu, but the conditions were excellent by default, considering Meteor City could be described as a very big landfill. Guy also disagreed a lot with the proprietor, Gordon Ramsay. Still, Gordon was the only father that Guy ever knew. He never knew his biological parents, and Gordon had pulled him off the streets in his darkest hour. For over half his life now, Guy had been happily enslaved to his foster father’s iron will in the kitchen, if that made any sense at all. But still, as he got older, something about Gordon didn’t sit right with him.

“I TOLD YOU, THE CUSTOMER ASKED FOR EXTRA LAMB SAUCE ON THEIR TROUPE MAC! YOU STINKY GREMLIN!” It was lunchtime at the Spider Shack, the second busiest meal of the day.

“Well, they can just cry about it. It’s not my problem,” Guy said under his breath, flipping his bangs.

“I HEARD THAT!” Gordon leaned dangerously close to Guy’s face. “You’ve worked here for ten years of your pathetic life, you useless bozo! You should know by now that lamb sauce is our signature ingredient. Now GET OUT THERE AND COME BACK WHEN YOU DISAPPOINT THEM!"

Begrudgingly, Guy shoved open the kitchen door and marched to the table where the man who ordered the burger was waiting. He was tall, had flowing black hair and an unkempt beard, and wearing a somewhat conspicuous bathrobe. He gave off the air of a grumpy hobo, but something about him was more sinister. The katana strapped to his waist was just the first hint of this. With shaky hands, the young boy handed the man his tray, which had on it a double-decker Troupe Mac, Uvo-sized fries, and a Pain Packer, which combined the sourness of cider with the sting of a 90% alcohol concentration. The man took it without a word, or even a tip.  
Guy was walking back to the kitchen when he heard the displeased shout of his customer.

“WHERE’S THE LAMB SAUCE!” All the chatter out in the dining room had suddenly ceased. The man stood up and stormed to the kitchen. Guy was used to angry customers, but something about this man was different. He felt that if this man so much as looked at him, he would drop dead on the spot. Before Guy could react properly, the man burst in and grabbed Gordon by the scruff of the neck.

**"I asked for extra lamb sauce. You’ve never failed me before. Do you have a death wish, you fucking hack chef?”** Gordon was angry that someone would dare to put his apprentice’s brainlessness on him, but he was still too intimidated by the man’s aura to speak up. 

“And what’s more…” the man revealed his half-eaten burger patty was completely pink on the inside. With that, Gordon broke loose of his grip.

**“IT’S FUCKING RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWW!”** He screamed in the direction of his apprentice, who the man was already heading towards. As he watched, 16-year-old Guy Fieri listed all his regrets: never learning to drive, never finding true love, and most of all, never rising to the top of the food industry and discovering the ultimate flavor. As the last of these thoughts passed through his mind, he gulped back tears. The man in the bathrobe stood menacingly over his trembling form, drawing his sword. He felt an unpleasant prickling sensation along his spine, as if he felt the man's desire to kill him right where he sat.

“Don’t worry brat, I’m not going to kill you. Yet. I’ll let Chrollo decide whether or not I come back and finish the job.” And with that, he sheathed his blade and left, and conversation returned outside the kitchen. Guy was so scared that he didn’t even feel the warmth of the urine that was gathering inside his shorts, which had been decorated with flames.

“Dumb shit! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO THAT WAS?” Guy shook his head no. “THAT WAS ONE OF THE MEMBERS OF THE PHANTOM TROUPE! THEY’RE REGULARS HERE!” He gasped in shock.

“Why did you make me serve him then? You usually do these orders yourself!”

“I thought you’d be ready to serve someone as demanding as the Troupe. Of all my apprentices, your abilities are the most promising. BUT EVIDENTLY, I WAS WRONG!” The disgruntled chef threw his hands up in exasperation. “MASS MURDERING BAND OF THIEVES OR NO, YOU ALWAYS USE LAMB SAUCE!”

“I just wanted to experiment! I wanted to find the ultimate flavor!”

“TOUGH SHIT, KID! THE RESTAURANT BUSINESS DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!” Then, after Gordon took a few seconds to calm himself, he patted Guy on the shoulder. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t that fatass, Uvogin. He always orders big portions, and if we got it wrong, everyone in this restaurant would be dead now. Now, table 4 wants a Ceasar salad. EITHER GO TOSS THE SALAD OR TOSS YOURSELF!” Guy Fieri, in all his teenage rebellion, rolled his eyes and obliged.

“AND CLEAN UP THAT PISS STAIN YOU LEFT BEHIND TOO!”


	2. The x Troupe's x Plot

“He skimped on the lamb sauce, and didn’t cook my patty! What should we do?” The man in the bathrobe had returned to his home, a large, dusty cathedral full of crates and boxes of assorted treasures, obviously stolen. He was clearly still salty about his order, so salty that the fries he was eating paled in comparison.

“You may be one of our frontline fighters, but you can be a real pansy sometimes, you know that Nobunaga?!” The man who spoke up was inhumanly tall and built stronger than an army tank. “Tch…’I want it well done’, he says. You disappoint me. RAW IS THE ONLY WAY TO GO!”

“Not all of us want salmonella, Uvo,” retorted Nobunaga.

“HA! The big bad samurai is scared of some puny bacteria,” teased Uvo. “We’re the PHANTOM TROUPE! NOTHING CAN STOP US, ESPECIALLY SOMETHING SO SMALL! ISN’T THAT RIGHT, MACHI?”

“Sorry Uvo, I’m gonna have to go with Nobu on this one,” spoke Machi, a young girl with pink hair, a cold stare and a monotone voice. “I hate it when my meat’s tender. Too tough to chew.”

"Fair enough," scoffed Uvo. "I should have figured a twig like you wouldn't eat meat. But what about you, Franklin?"

"Deli meats only. It's much simpler to prepare and less disgusting than fast food," said Franklin, a heavy set man with overalls and large hands.

"DAMMIT, YOU'RE WORSE THAN NOBUNAGA! Pakunoda?! Please?!"

"I'm vegetarian," said Pakunoda, a tall, blonde woman in a formal coat and knee-high skirt. "All meat can carry disease. I only trust plants."

“UGH! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?” Thoroughly upset that his fellow Troupe members had the wrong idea about meat doneness, Uvo flared his aura and stepped closer to Nobunaga in an attempt to intimidate him.

“Heh, I’m not gonna fight you, Uvo,” laughed Nobunaga, standing up to prove he was not scared. “The E. Coli would kill you first.”  


**“YOU’RE DE--”** a man with jet-black hair wearing a fur coat, which was adorned with a golden cross on its back, stepped between them before Uvo could throw the first punch. He displayed an icy calm, and it was obvious that he was not afraid of many things, if anything at all. Even Uvo, who towered over him, folded in his presence.

“Stop this senseless bickering,” he said. “You know very well it is forbidden.”

“Right. Sorry, Chrollo.” Both men said in unison, reluctantly shaking hands.

“No need to be so formal with me,” said Chrollo. “Just call me boss.” They nodded. “Good. Now, Nobunaga...tell me how your investigation of that young chef went.”

"He’s hopeless,” said Nobunaga succinctly. “He can’t even use the right amount of lamb sauce. I don’t know why that Ramsay keeps him around.”

“Well, he does make a pretty good yakitori,” a cheerful-looking blond piped up. “Maybe he has some hidden potential that Ramsay is trying to realize.”

“Tch, you’re too optimistic, Shalnark,” said Nobunaga dismissively. “If he messes up something as simple as a burger, he has no place with us.”

“I say we give him a chance. I would like it if we had a decent cook.”

“I agree with Shalnark,” said a short, emo-looking man clad in black leather. “We are thieves. We should not have to pay Ramsay’s outrageous fees.”

“Hey, Feitan makes a good point,” said Uvo. “Why do we put up with his stinginess anyway? We could kill him in a heartbeat.”

“Because nobody else has his cooking abilities,” said Chrollo simply. “I would steal them for myself, but I am not convinced that I can. It’s as if he was born with the ability to cook.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” admitted Uvogin, disappointed that he had been denied the privilege of killing him. “But what about the kid? He hasn’t perfected his cooking, and there’s no reason to wait around until he does!”

“Patience, Uvogin,” said Chrollo in an attempt to calm him down. “I’m interested in Guy because of his potential. He is a blank slate, and he knows what it’s like to be manipulated and used by conventional society, even among the denizens of Meteor City. He belongs with us. Plus, given time, he can probably achieve the ultimate flavor. That, Uvogin, is our next target."

"You binge watched _that show_ again last night, didn't you?" Machi asked in a dry tone. "That's the fourth time this week."

"Shut up! It's a good show!" Chrollo's voice suddenly rose to an indignant yell. "Maybe YOU wouldn't appreciate the thrill of cooking a 5 star meal with a time limit, but I do!" Machi simply shrugged. "The ability to cook is something beyond Nen, and thus beyond my ability to steal, and that intrigues me. That is why I desire the ultimate flavor, and if Guy Fieri fails to achieve it, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Boss, PLEASE!” Nobunaga pleaded angrily. “HE HAS ALREADY FAILED! HE INSULTED OUR TROUPE MACS WITH HIS SHITTY COOKING! LET ME KILL HIM FOR YOU, I BEG YOU!”

“No, Nobunaga. I have made my decree. Betray me, and you betray the Spider.” The swordsman pouted, but did as he was told. “And since you’ve already gone and struck fear into the boy, he won’t come with us willingly. We’ll just have to take him by force…”


	3. When x Opportunity x Knocks

“Bastard,” Guy Fieri angsted under his flaming hoodie as he walked to the store to pick up ingredients for the dinnertime rush, the busiest time of the day. “Why am I not allowed to experiment? Why does Gordon not let me develop my own skills? I’ll never discover the ultimate flavor like this.” As Guy Fieri weaved his way between the stalls of the sprawling outdoor Meteor Market, picking up the ingredients for Gordon Ramsay’s signature beef Wellington dish, he contemplated his position as a chef’s mere apprentice and decided he wasn’t happy. Guy had far greater aspirations. He wanted to become a master chef, possibly a Food Network star. He wanted to reinvent himself, maybe start wearing obnoxious T-shirts and have horrible, backwards-facing sunglasses. Being a generic angsty teen didn’t suit him. He wanted to be unique.

“Ayy, Fieri!” The large, mustachioed butcher greeted him as he walked up to the kiosk. “Here to pick up Ramsay’s beef Wellington?”

“Obviously. Beef Wellington is all his customers seem to care about,” said Guy, still angsting.

“Of course! It’s what makes the Spider Shack our finest establishment,” said the butcher jovially.

“It is one of the few that isn’t a dumpster.” The butcher laughed at Guy’s deadpan comment and gave him the cut he ordered.

“That’ll be 50,000.” Guy sighed, reluctantly taking his salary from last week out of his pocket and slamming it on the counter before leaving with an unenthusiastic wave. Then, suddenly, the butcher made a small, sharp whistling noise, signaling for Guy to stop and turn his attention towards him.

“Take this flyer, kid,” he whispered, handing him a slip of paper. “You got a big personality and even bigger potential. This is your chance.” Before the young chef could respond, the man shooed him away and began calling to other prospective customers. Guy flipped his bangs and pulled the flyer closer to him so he could see it more clearly.

It read: _Do you have unrecognized talent? Do you want power, fame and fortune dispensed at your feet? Apply for the Hunter Exam online by December 31 and you just might have it!_

_(Hunter Association is not responsible for any injury or death that is likely to occur during the Exam. By applying for the exam, you place your own life at risk.)_

“Hm, I might as well be dead with the amount of recognition I’m getting,” he snarked, putting the slip of paper in his pocket.

“Goddamn, that’s pretty edgy kid,” said a random shopper walking past, laughing. Guy was used to these comments. “But you’d better hit the gym a little bit if you’re going to take the Hunter Exam. You won’t even make it to the exam site if you don’t!”

“Yeah, sure.” Guy was barely listening, but decided to take his advice anyway. “Fuck this beef Wellington. Gordon can go buy it himself.” It was decided. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, he made his way towards the gym, which was just around the corner from the Spider Shack. He scoffed to himself as he walked past his former place of employment, but then, he stopped as he heard shouting from within.

“HEY, RAMSAY!” Guy could have sworn he recognized the voice, but thought nothing of it. “I’M ONLY GOING TO ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME! WHERE’S YOUR BRAT?!”

“YOU WALK INTO MY RESTAURANT DEMANDING TO TAKE MY APPRENTICE?! **OVER MY DEAD BODY, YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING DONKEY TOSSER!** ” Gordon’s furious voice resounded throughout the restaurant and out into the street. Guy assumed it was an angry customer demanding beef Wellington and continued on his way, knowing full well that that was his mentor’s specialty. Seconds later, however, gunfire and the screaming of innocent patrons sounded from the eatery. Guy was suddenly struck with fear. These were no ordinary angry customers.

_I can’t go back into that restaurant!_ He panicked to himself. _They want to take me! Who knows what weird shit they want to do to me! But Gordon..._ Guy found himself thinking back to all the good times he spent with his mentor.

_“You’re coming with me, you worthless fucking urchin! I’m going to hone those skills of yours!”_

_“Wow, you actually used the right amount of salt! Maybe you AREN’T such a little wanker after all!”_

_“THIS, you festering doggie doo, is LAMB SAUCE! It’s the lifeblood of the Spider Shack!”_

_“WHAT ARE YOU?!”_

_“An idiot sandwich.”_

_“Goddamn right. And that’s why I love you, you useless giraffe.”_

Wiping back tears, Guy reluctantly turned away from the restaurant, running towards the gym and not looking back. To make sure he was safe, he ducked behind a pile of trash, deciding he would stay there until he was absolutely sure the coast was clear. He ducked down even further when he heard voices coming from around the corner.

“Man, that was fruitless. And he didn’t even make me a beef Wellington.” Guy heard the same voice just moments earlier at the restaurant. Dread rose within him as he realized it was the same man in the bathrobe who threatened him earlier that day.

“He couldn’t have gone far. we’ll search for the boy tomorrow.” Another voice, obviously belonging to a large man, spoke up. Peering around the corner, Guy saw the swordsman accompanied by a hulking giant in overalls, his most prominent features being his gigantic hands. Guy observed these two battle-hardened men with shaky breath. Then, the man in the bathrobe stopped abruptly and motioned for his partner to do the same, as if he had sensed something. Guy's stomach turned.

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait that long, Franklin.” In the blink of an eye, the swordsman was behind the young chef, and peering down at his feeble form.

**“Found you, you little brat. You’re coming with us.”** The last sensation Guy felt before everything faded to black was the hilt of a blade hitting the back of his head.


	4. Chairman x Chrollo' s x Challenge

“Hey brat, you alive?” As Guy regained his consciousness, he found himself staring at a stained glass panel on the ceiling, through which the moonlight shone, and felt himself being slapped lightly across his cheek. It was the man who had kidnapped him.

“He is waking up,” said a soft, emotionless voice belonging to a short man with jet-black hair and leather clothes. He was standing over Guy, next to his kidnapper. “I was beginning to think you killed him.”

“Pfeh. I would have if it weren’t for the boss’ orders.”

“What does the boss even see in him? I would like to test him, but if I had a say, I would have just captured his mentor and tortured the recipes out of him.”

“Now, now, Feitan, none of us know how to cook,” said the voice of a cheerful young boy. “Plus, he might take away our discount.” Feitan sighed.

"Why must you be such a smartass, Shalnark," said Feitan.

"Hey, the ass wasn't necessary." Shalnark didn't even sound slightly offended, even if he was trying to be. "I'm just smart. I'm guessing that's why the boss noticed my abilities, despite the fact that I wasn't one of the original members."

“Well, I could probe Ramsay's memories and learn how to make his recipes properly,” suggested a confident young woman. “That would be the best outcome, the way I see it.”

“That’s a brilliant plan, Pakunoda!” The man who knocked Guy unconscious spoke up again, and drew his sword, smiling deviously. “Hey Franklin! We kept Ramsay alive for a reason, right?”

“Yeah, just in case things don't work out with this kid,” said Franklin. “Just make it quick, before the boss comes back.” The swordsman laughed gleefully. Guy felt the same sensation he felt when this very same man cornered him in the Spider Shack's kitchen.

“Say goodnight, kid! NO ONE UNDERCOOKS MY BURGER!” Guy, who had been fearfully eavesdropping on the Spiders’ conversation, closed his eyes and braced himself for the blade’s impact. _Shit. I’m going to die here! I’m going to die a nameless freak!_

“Nobunaga. Stop this.” An authoritative voice sounded ominously through the large chamber. Guy looked up to see an intimidating man with black hair and a fur coat. 

“B-boss!” The smile had been wiped from Nobunaga’s face. “H-how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” the boss stated simply. “I understand our Troupe was only created recently, but the rules were set into place since the very beginning. All of this planning and discussion must go through me if we are to survive as a cohesive unit in this world that shuns and despises us. Do you understand?”

“O-of course. It will never happen again,” stammered Nobunaga, sheathing his sword once again.

“Good to hear.” The leader approached the young chef and bent down over him. “Can you hear me? I am Chrollo Lucilfer. You’re in the Phantom Troupe headquarters.”

“The...THE Phantom Troupe?” He inquired hoarsely.

“HA! Seems like this kid knows about us!” The largest man in the room laughed proudly. “Looks like we’re already making a name for ourselves!”

“In time, Uvogin,” said the leader. “In time, the whole world will be forced to reckon with us.” Uvogin laughed excitedly at this statement.

“What...do you want with me, then?” Guy asked apprehensively.

“You’ve caught my eye, and I want to test your skills,” said Chrollo. “In other words, you will cook for us.”

“And what if…” the chef coughed quietly. “What if I refuse?”

“If you refuse, Nobunaga here will cut you down. He’s already pretty eager to do so. Even if you live, however, Ramsay will have no one to call apprentice.”

“What...what are you saying?”

“You will work for the Troupe. Simply put, we’re going to steal your culinary skills and use them for ourselves. We are thieves, after all.” This did not sound like a satisfactory arrangement for Guy, but he was intrigued that the Troupe would take notice of him.

“Why would I work for you?” He lifted his head slightly, but not so much that he would appear to be defensive. He rubbed the back of his head lightly and felt a small welt where Nobunaga had hit him.

“Because you have no choice, brat,” muttered Nobunaga through clenched teeth. Guy realized he would not be getting along with the swordsman anytime soon. He didn’t look like much fun anyway.

“Your situation is not all grim, Guy Fieri,” Chrollo reassured him. “Uvo noted that we’re making a name for ourselves. That is your goal, isn’t it? In that respect, I believe that you and I are one and the same.” When he saw that Guy’s interest was piqued, he continued. “You will not be treated as a slave or a hostage if you succeed. In fact, you will be counted among our Troupe as a comrade.”

After pondering for a moment, Guy had his answer. “I’ll do it,” he said, resigning himself to the Troupe’s will.

“Excellent,” said Chrollo, satisfied with his answer. “If you would kindly follow me.” The leader positioned himself on a pile of crates, which were covered by a thick veil. Then, he dramatically removed the veil to reveal all sorts of ingredients.

“Why is he suddenly so...theatrical," said Feitan, understandably puzzled.

“I don't know,” said Pakunoda, equally as confused. "Maybe he's passionate about cooking. It's no wonder he's interested in this kid."

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Chrollo had dropped his poised and stoic demeanor, and he seemed like an entirely different person now. “The time has come to ask once again...the eternal question. What does it mean...TRULY MEAN...TO COOK?”

“It has nothing to do with philosophy, just cook my burger right,” grumbled Nobunaga under his breath. Chrollo ignored him and continued his excited speech.

“Some say it’s presentation. Some say it’s simple science. While others say it’s the flavor that counts. But aren’t all those statements true, my friends?”

“Uhh...yeah, that’s true,” said Franklin after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“A good answer! Now, we will select our three judges. Tonight, here in Kitchen Stadium, THEY will decide your fate.” He pointed down at Guy. “First comes Nobunaga Hazama, a warrior from the east with a discriminating palate!”

“Heh, you better hope the other two like what you make.” _This asshole can really hold a grudge,_ Guy observed silently.

“Next comes Uvogin, a towering eight-foot barbarian with a biiiiig appetite!”

“Make sure I’m not still hungry by the end, kid!” Uvogin slapped the boy playfully on the shoulder. The chef winced as he heard his collarbone crack.

“Aaaand finally, we have Shalnark! Since he’s always smiling, you’ll never really know if you’ve got his vote.”

“Just do your best,” said Shalnark reassuringly. At least, Guy hoped it was meant to be reassuring.

“Now, young Guy Fieri,” said Chrollo dramatically. “do you recognize these ingredients?” He took note of the rare Iceberg lettuce grown in the frozen tundra, the Giant Onions that grew at the base of the World Tree, the succulent Titan Tomatoes that revolutionized ketchup and pizza upon their discovery, and of course, the enormous beef patty. The young chef was rather disappointed.

“You want me to make a Troupe Mac?" He scoffed. "Isn’t that too easy?”

“Oh no, not just _any_ Troupe Mac,” said Chrollo, “for there is one more ingredient...our SECRET ingredient!” He uncovered a silver platter, and Guy groaned as he recognized the individual packets of sauce.

“LAMB SAUCE!” Chrollo’s voice reverberated through the chapel. “You are getting a chance to redeem yourself. There are other ingredients prepared for you at your station, that you can use as you see fit. Just make sure to use the lamb sauce!”

“Not this shit again,” Guy sighed as he walked over to the grill, putting the packets of lamb sauce the boss had given him in his pocket. He took note of the grill's features. It was obviously professional-grade, made of stainless steel, and had three cabinets on the bottom. On the side, there were two ignition knobs. However, perhaps the most striking feature was that it was too big for one person to man alone. Chrollo laughed.

“I forgot to mention...you need a challenger to remind you that time is also a factor in this challenge. Preparedness and punctuality often go hand in hand, after all.”

“I will do it.” Guy was startled as he noticed that Feitan, who was at the other side of the chapel just seconds earlier, was now beside him. “Unlike Nobunaga, I'd like to give him a chance, especially if it means not having to buy food. Plus, no matter what the outcome will be, it will be fun to make him sweat.”

“Ah, Feitan, the speedster of our Troupe! And he doesn’t like to play nice either. He can and _will_ attempt to sabotage you!” The chef gulped as he saw Feitan’s devious expression, which was partially hidden by his collar.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t do the same to him,” added Chrollo.

“I’d like to see him try.” Feitan was thoroughly unimpressed.

“Now, chefs, you have twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes to prepare your meal, and another five minutes to dish it and make it presentable. No sabotage of the food can occur in the final five minutes. Additionally, only Feitan is allowed to hinder Guy’s progress. No outside help.” Nobunaga groaned. “Spatulas...READY!” Chrollo glanced dramatically from side to side at both challengers as they lifted their spatulas. “ALLEZ CUISINE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, a word from our author...
> 
> Holy shit, people are actually reading this. Uhhh...I guess I should thank you? No, really, thanks for reading. This is my second HxH fanfic, and it wouldn't have been made if it weren't for sleep deprivation and a dumb inside joke with a few friends. So, thanks again, dear reader, I wrote this for you! Fuck, this is getting awkward...
> 
> On a more professional note: right now I'm trying to upload a new chapter every 1-2 days. I'm also trying to stay a few chapters ahead in my drafts so I have a good amount of time for editing and stuff (I'm just starting the draft for chapter 7 at this time). This is the only thing I'm writing at this point but I have a few other ideas I hope you guys will be into!
> 
> Anyway, thanks again! Peace.
> 
> \- Joey


	5. Chef x Assassin x Showdown!

As soon as the boss announced the start of the challenge, both Guy and Feitan set to work cutting the iceberg lettuce. The young chef was good with a kitchen knife. He had, after all, had to endure Ramsay’s motivational rants in the kitchen, the most memorable ones being “Come on, get a move on you retarded fucking mule!” and “My great-aunt can chop better than you, and SHE HAS PARKINSON’S!” Now, he was flawless at it, cutting through the lettuce in swift, downward motions, even as the lettuce was somewhat frozen in the center due to the climate in which it was able to grow. After roughly a minute and a half, Guy had finished. However, he was so focused on chopping that he didn’t even notice that Feitan had not only finished the lettuce, but the lettuce and onions as well.

“Are you feeling a little demotivated, brat,” he taunted. Guy went hurriedly cutting the onions.

“Oh, are you going to start crying so soon? Save your tears for when I break your limbs.”

“Seems Feitan is already getting violent,” remarked Franklin. “Is he really gonna kill him during the challenge?”

“He wouldn’t, because I have that honor if he loses,” bragged Nobunaga.

“It looks like Feitan is planning a little something extra,” pointed out Pakunoda, drawing the Troupe’s attention back to the grill. He had taken about half the vegetable slices and tossed them into the air, chopping them into smaller pieces in a swift zigzag motion, even swiping a pepper mill, as well as a few other spices, from Guy’s cabinet. The chef looked startled for a moment, but shrugged it off.

“He seems to be a little slow, so I will treat you guys to a salad while we wait.” The Troupe cheered, even Uvo, who was a strict carnivore.

Guy had just finished chopping the onion when he noticed that Feitan, in the midst of all his boasting, neglected to turn on the grill. While Feitan was busy looking for a large bowl to toss the salad in, Guy stealthily turned the knob, igniting the burner, giving him an advantage. Sprinkling on a small amount of lighter fluid for good measure, he began to rapidly cut the tomato.

“Hey! That's not fa--” Chrollo made a motion to silence Uvo before he could give away Guy’s strategy. “Aw, come on, boss, I thought you were cool,” the giant attempted to appeal to his leader. He simply flashed him a glance that meant only: _Bitch, I already know I’m cool._

“Tch, too cool to even talk back, I see,” was Uvo’s snappy response.

“I believe it’s because the chairman in Iron Chef doesn’t talk during the match,” added Shalnark. “He only talks when announcing ingredients at the beginning or the results at the end.”

“Yeah, he’s a real nerd for these kinds of shows.” The voice, which belonged to a teenage girl with pink hair tied back in a messy bun, startled the rest of the Troupe.

“Machi? When did you even get here?” Pakunoda inquired.

“I’ve been here,” Machi stated briefly. “I’m just completely uninterested. He’s tried making me watch Iron Chef too many times already. He says he’s too afraid to open up about his hobbies to the rest of you. I don’t even know why he chose me."

“HA! That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” laughed Nobunaga. “If you knew what I was into, you’d be open about everything.”

“Well Nobu, what exactly are you into?” Shalnark asked curiously, with his usual innocent smile.

"Yeah, tell us," encouraged Uvo in a teasing manner. "It can't be that bad if you're dropping hints like that."

“Uhh...shutting up now.” Nobunaga realized what he had almost admitted to and decided to quit while he was ahead.

10 minutes remaining

At the grill, Feitan had finished tossing his salad and was placing it into smaller bowls to serve it to the Troupe, when he noticed that Guy was already flipping his burgers.

“Dammit!” He cursed under his breath. "How could I forget to turn on the grill?!” The speedster was beginning to lose his cool, a concept that was almost foreign to him. He began to lose it even more seeing that Guy had grown visibly more confident.

“What’s wrong? Too busy being extra?” The teen’s barely veiled cockiness earned an indignant growl from Feitan. He hurriedly turned the knob to ignite the grill and dropped the gargantuan patties onto the grate, but they were cooking much too slow for his liking. Stealing his opponent’s lighter fluid, he dumped what remained in the bottle onto his side of the grill, resulting in an eruption that scorched all the patties on the grill, including Guy’s.

“Hahaha! At least they won’t be raw this time,” Feitan gloated. Guy, beginning to panic, tried to find the buns he placed in the cabinet, but only found an empty plate. Putting them in there for what he thought would be safekeeping was not a good idea after all. _Bastard!_ Guy cursed silently. _He raided the pepper mill from under there! I never saw him take off with the buns!_

“Looking for these?” Feitan held about two dozen buns, both top and bottom, in his hands. Cackling wildly, he dropped one set into the raging inferno, where it quickly turned to charcoal. “AHAHAHAHAHAAAA! For every minute that passes, you’ll lose exactly one bun...unless you can get them back. But you’ll have to catch me first, KID!” With that, the speedster disappeared, seemingly into thin air. To Guy Fieri, it seemed that this would be the end. Then, he remembered the wise words of his teacher, Gordon Ramsay.

 _“I don’t remember the customer ordering VOLCANIC ROCK BETWEEN TWO BUNS, YOU FUCKIN’ MOLDY CHEESEHEAD!”_ Regardless of whether he had buns between which to put the patties or not, Guy absolutely couldn’t afford to leave the burgers on the grill. He swiftly pulled the patties out of the roaring fire and put them onto the plate that once held the buns. He also realized that the cabinet was no longer a safe place and, taking advantage of Feitan’s absence, put them in his cabinet instead, which was also empty. He wondered where the buns could have been stored. The young chef supposed Feitan had anticipated that he could sabotage him in return, and effectively eliminated that possibility by hiding the contents of his cabinet in a safer place. Just as Guy began thinking of another strategy, Feitan reappeared at the grill, sacrificing another set of buns to the flames.

“Why haven’t you started chasing me yet, kid?! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Having hidden his burgers, Guy attempted to track the speedster with his eyes. It was futile to try to give chase, as he was zigzagging across the stained-glass ceiling. The young chef was beginning to get frustrated. He picked up a few knives that were stored in the center cabinet and began feverishly throwing them at him. Unsurprisingly, he dodged every one.

“He must be getting desperate,” commented Nobunaga.

“Yeah, I knew this kid wasn’t very bright, but this is too much,” laughed Uvo.

After another minute of pointlessly throwing knives, another bun was dropped into the fire. Guy decided that getting the buns was a lost cause, but the battle was not lost yet. The chef received another vision from his mentor.

 _“WHERE’S THE LAMB SAUCE?!”_ That was it. Guy had discovered the key to his victory. Even as Feitan dropped yet another bun into the flames, he waited for Chrollo to signal that it was time to prepare the final product, confident that he would win using the lamb sauce he had pocketed, no matter how unfinished everything else was.

"CHALLENGERS, FIVE MINUTES! BEGIN PREPARING YOUR FINAL MASTERPIECE IMMEDIATELY!"

"Hehehe, YOU'RE FINISHED!" Feitan leaned threateningly close to Guy's face as he dropped a fifth set of buns onto the grill.


	6. The x Troupe's x Decision

As Chrollo made the announcement, Feitan set to preparing their burgers. Guy witnessed the speedster pull the remaining buns out of his jacket and make good use of them. _So THAT’S where he’s been hiding them! He must have very deep pockets,_ Guy pondered to himself. He waited patiently for Feitan to finish before he applied the secret ingredient. The speedster also pulled assorted condiments out of his jacket, some of which were the ones that he had stolen out from under Guy’s nose. He minced the remaining buns he had into smaller pieces and stuck them on his sword, toasting them lightly over the flame.

“Croutons,” he remarked simply, taking them off the flame and lightly seasoning them with garlic before dumping them into his salad. The Troupe cheered as he went to serve them. After he left to go to the judgement table, which was actually just a row of crates, Guy stealthily opened Feitan’s cabinet and pulled out his patties, setting to work.

“Magnificent! I love the burntness! You’ve outdone yourself, Feitan.” Nobunaga was obviously pleased with the speedster’s burger, and took another from the plate before passing it to Uvo, who took a bite. 

“This is too easy to chew!” Uvo, preferring rare or even raw meat, was not as impressed. “You had to go overboard with the lighter fluid, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t help it,” Feitan shrugged slightly. “My strength is sabotage.” With a grimace on his face, Uvo gave the remaining patties to Shalnark.

“It’s very crisp, and the condiments definitely add flavor,” he said. Even though he was smiling, neither Guy nor Feitan could tell exactly what his opinion was. He was obviously trying to remain as neutral as possible. “I am interested in trying your salad, though.”

“Ugh, do we have to? Boss, you know I'm trying to maintain my perfect muscles,” whined Uvo. Chrollo simply nodded while Feitan dished up the salad.

“The combination of pepper and ranch is definitely an interesting one, and I really admire your improvisation,” said Shalnark in his usual cheerful tone.

“Yeah, way to get a good lead on that little brat,” laughed Nobunaga, who was still contemptuous of Guy after all this time.

“Ehh...I guess it’s decent. For vegetables anyway,” said Uvo. “That kid better provide me with a heap of uncooked meat or I’m gonna wring his little neck!”

“THREE MINUTES REMAIN! I HOPE YOU’VE BEEN USING YOUR TIME WISELY, GUY FIERI!”

“I think I’ve at least made something decent,” said Guy, with a confident smirk plastered to his face.

“I don’t care for that expression.” Feitan, who had calmed down since he received approval from the judges, was beginning to lose his temper once more. Just as Guy was about to pick up his plate and approach the judgement table, Feitan gave Guy a swift chop to the back of the neck, knocking him to onto the grill.

“The boss said I couldn’t sabotage the food now, but he never said anything against sabotaging YOU!” Feitan sounded positively gleeful as he seized his right arm and pushed his head further onto the grill, which was still somewhat hot despite being turned off.

“I thought...he said you couldn’t kill me,” wheezed Guy as he felt the heat of the grill on his cheek.

“Killing you now would not satisfy me. Besides, I’m sure the boss would not mind if a few of your bones were broken.” The young chef cried out in pain as Feitan broke his several of his fingers. “Now, you tell me why you have that smug expression on your face. Or your wrist is next.”

“What...what do you mean smug?” There was a sickening crack, followed by another yelp of pain.

**“You have already pissed me off. Don’t test my patience.”**

“Lamb...sauce…” As he strained himself to say those words, he noticed Feitan falter a bit.

“Dammit...how could I have forgo--” his sentence was cut off as he saw that Guy had made a bold move to break himself free. He obviously had little to no combat skills, but with one of his legs, the chef had managed to kick him square in the crotch. Not even a member of the mighty Phantom Troupe could resist such a devastating blow. As he watched Guy run off to the judgement table, holding the plate with his one unbroken hand, Feitan winced and cursed himself for not putting enough pressure on his lower body. The rest of the Troupe, even those disinterested in the match, could only look on in shock.

“Whoa, that was harsh,” said Machi, who was taking a break from polishing her nails to watch.

“Still, he’s got some guts,” added Uvo. “Even if he loses, I think he’d be a valuable member of our team.”

“If Feitan decides to let him live, then I agree,” mused Machi.

“That’s a big ‘if’,” said Franklin, who had been silent for the whole match. “Remember who we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah, now you’ve done it, kid. Shame you didn’t get to redeem yourself,” shrugged Nobunaga. Guy looked over at Feitan, who was now seething with rage.

“(You little shit...you had to hit me THERE),” said Feitan through clenched teeth. He was speaking in a manner that Guy couldn’t understand, but he knew he should keep his distance, because he felt a familiar sensation, the same he felt from Nobunaga twice before. It was unbridled, murderous hatred.“(I have been waiting for the chance to try my perfected technique on someone).”

“He’s not gonna try that right now, is he?” There was a hint of apprehension in Franklin’s voice.

 ** _“PAIN PACKER!”_** _I recognize that name,_ Guy thought to himself. _It’s the Spider Shack’s super alcoholic cider! What could it possibly mean?_ Suddenly, Feitan was wearing a sinister suit of red armor.

“Did he...pull that out of his pocket?” Guy asked fearfully.

“Afraid not! RUN!” Uvo picked him up under his muscular arm, taking the burgers in his free hand, and ran for the exit with the rest of the Troupe.

“(Get back here, Uvo! HE NEEDS TO PAY!)” To his dismay, Feitan couldn’t run very fast in his armor. **_“RISING SUN!”_** Guy gulped as he saw that the speedster had somehow created what looked like a very small sun in the palm of his hand, and it was slowly rising. Just as Uvo burst through the doors of the cathedral and out into the street, Guy heard the sound of roaring flame inside. The Troupe waited for the sound to die down before reentering the church.

“You ASSHOLE, Feitan!” Nobunaga socked him over the head. “You were gonna disobey orders and kill him? I had that honor! Plus, you could have destroyed all our treasure!” He indicated all the crates, which were miraculously unharmed by the flames.

“I would have if he had injured me more seriously.” Guy breathed a sigh of relief. Feitan was calm once more.

“How did he do that?” He turned to Uvogin.

“If the boss gives you his approval, you’ll find out,” the barbarian responded. Chrollo silently motioned for the three judges to go back to their table, or rather, crates, and took center stage once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that ANYTHING can happen here in Kitchen Stadium! But now, time is up, and there is still one challenger who has yet to get the opinion of our judges! Will Guy Fieri make the cut…” he turned to glance dramatically at the chef, swishing his fur coat for dramatic effect “...or will he GET CUT?” He then turned towards Feitan and glanced dramatically at him. He didn’t react.

“Hey, this is actually pretty good!” Uvo was definitely impressed. “You actually made me like a well done burger!” He took all but two patties, giving each one to the other judges.

“You made good use of the lamb sauce,” remarked Shalnark. “I think this is a winner!”

“Hn, it has to be a unanimous vote, right boss?” Nobunaga asked. Chrollo nodded silently. “Heh, looks like your fate rests with me, brat.” He took a bite of the incomplete burger, somewhat hesitantly. Guy smirked when Nobunaga’s eyes widened. He had impressed all three judges.

“This is...this is fantastic! What did you use?”

“The lamb sauce. It was the secret ingredient, wasn’t it?”

“ Of course! Slightly blackened, with just the right amount of lamb sauce!” Nobunaga chuckled.

“So, have I redeemed myself yet?” Guy asked smugly. Nobunaga suddenly stopped laughing and pouted.

“Fine,” he said begrudgingly. “But you’re not completely off the hook yet. We’ll settle the score some other way.”

“Then it is decided,” said Chrollo. Guy Fieri, you are now an official member of our Troupe!” The statement was met with scattered applause from the other seven members.

“You have not only proven that you can cook, but that you have limited combat ability,” continued Chrollo. “But there are less...gauche ways to attack someone than that." Feitan simply glared.

“Does this mean I can get training for the Hunter Exam?” Guy asked hopefully.

“The Hunter Exam?” Uvo laughed heartily. “You’ll be able to fight better than any Hunter with our help!”

“Hey, I was a Hunter, and the boss took notice of my abilities,” piped up Shalnark.

“That’s because you’re a genius, Shal.” Uvo patted the blond’s head affectionately as Chrollo approached Guy.

“What is your purpose for taking the Hunter Exam?” Chrollo inquired.

“I want to become a Gourmet Hunter, have my own show on Food Network and discover the ultimate flavor!” The young chef exclaimed ambitiously.

“Then it seems I was correct.” The raven-haired boss nodded. “You will fit in with us.”

“Fit in?"

“Now now, we’re thieves, not monsters. As I said, we will treat you like family as long as you are a member of our group. Additionally, I’ll have Shalnark train you for the upcoming exam, since he has some idea of what you should expect. You still have a month to increase your skill.”

“But...my wrist.” Guy held up his hand, which was still mangled.

“Uvo!” The barbarian approached when his boss called him. As Chrollo indicated Guy’s broken hand, Uvo grabbed it and, one by one, popped the joints back into place. Guy winced in pain, but it quickly passed.

“Good as new, kid!” The giant waved as he walked away to join his comrades.

“Well?” Chrollo turned his attention back to Guy. “Are you willing to take this path?”

“Of course. I want to develop my own skills, not live under the rule of some kitchen tyrant.”

“Good. One last question before I send you on your way, then...are you prepared to kill if need be?” Guy pondered this question for a brief moment.

“I’d hate for _anyone_ to get in my way,” said the young chef determinedly.

“Excellent,” said Chrollo happily. “Go on, get to know your new family.” As Guy watched the rays of the morning sun shine through the stained-glass window, he was interrupted by Feitan, who had suddenly shown up in front of him.

“Since you are a part of our ‘family’ now,” he said ominously, “You should know better than to upset me. We will get along just fine as long as you understand that.”

“Sure, Feitan.” As the speedster, who Guy realized was shorter than him, extended his hand, Guy took it, only to be kneed in the dick.

“Now I return your pain.” Feitan waved at him as he clutched his crotch. Despite the scar on his cheek, and the fact that he was now writhing on the floor in agony, the young chef, still brimming with ambition, felt that he would realize his true potential among the Troupe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hey guys! Thanks for your continued reading! Just wanted to let you guys know that it's time for term papers so there might be a delay before I post the next chapter. Right now chapter 7 is finished and I'm trying to figure out how to piece together the next few chapters. Writer's block is a bitch, but I have every intention of finishing this. I'll keep you guys posted. Peace!
> 
> \- Joey


	7. Rise x And x Fall

“Dammit! Where did that ungrateful prick go off to? He never came home last night.” Gordon Ramsay climbed out of bed and opened his blinds, looking out over the garbage-laden streets of Meteor City. He had not gotten much sleep last night, as he was still very much shaken by what happened during dinner. He wasn’t expecting his second failure to be so bloody, but he was expecting it to happen sooner or later. As he walked downstairs and into the Spider Shack’s kitchen, his thoughts drifted back to the past...

~~~~

_Young Gordon Ramsay had a rich upbringing, and as such, was always critical when it came to food, for as long as he could remember. He fondly remembered the first time he told his mother that her fried calamari “smelled like diarrhea and didn’t taste much better”. She called him a little snot and said “I’d like to see you try and do better”, making him cook the very next night. To both her dismay and pride, the calamari turned out perfectly._

_Cooking was a skill that perfectly showcased humanity’s evolution. On a basic level, people ate to survive, but with the advent of agriculture came to ability to blend all sorts of flavors, which, when done correctly, turned into art. After all, if you must eat to live, why not enjoy it as well? At least, that was what he told people when the situation called for him to be deep and pretentious. In reality, his philosophy was closer to “If I was lost in the desert, I’d rather starve to death than live on shitty baked beans.”_

_Every night, he cooked for the Ramsay household, and nobody ever had a complaint about his culinary skills. Somehow, he knew the both the exact combination and amount of flavors necessary to bring out perfection in a dish. He seemed to have cooking down to a science in the most literal sense. After attending several prestigious cooking schools around the world, he caught the attention of a Food Network executive in Yorknew City at the age of 20, who thought his vulgar, vitriolic personality was well-suited for entertainment. And so began his career as a food critic on_ Kitchen Nightmares. 

_For ten years, he traveled to many world-famous eateries that were less than reputable, he laid bare all the problems he found with their cooking, staff, and management. After a week or so, he fixed them, with only some minor self-esteem issues on the part of the proprietor. He was also responsible for weeding out any wannabe chefs who couldn’t cook for shit on his show, "Hell’s Kitchen." Everything seemed to be going smoothly for him in life, until one day, the network executive pulled him aside and gave him the news that would change his life._

_“Listen, Ramsay,” he said in a tone of mock sympathy, “I just got out of a conference, and we decided...you gotta go.”_

_“Who the fuck are you to tell me to leave?! You’ve never even cooked in your pathetic life, you white collar fuckwit! What the hell do you know?!”_

_“Cooking may not be my area of expertise, but as a network executive, I know a thing or two about keeping up with trends,” the executive told him, dropping the act. “You’re not allowing these new kids to experiment with their cooking.”_

_“Experiment?! But everything they make is SHIT!” The executive put a hand on the chef’s shoulder._

_“Listen, Ramsay, I’m a big believer in change,” he said as if posing a sales pitch. “You need to get it out of your head that cooking is a science. There’s no right way to cook. It’s all about experimentation to find the right flavor, which is always changing. A diet that’s popular one day might cause cancer the next. What I’m saying is, you need to learn to move with the rest of the world, especially in the restaurant biz. Maybe, once you learn that, we’ll let you come back. Oh, and we've been getting complaints from parents about that, er...mouth of yours.”_

_“Like hell I’m coming back, you idjit! If this is what the future is like, I don’t want to be a fucking part of it! Go suck a horse cock, you yankee doodle dipshit!” With that, he stormed out and never looked back. Because he had a reputation for being overly critical, no one would take him in as a chef, so he decided to start his own business from scratch in the only place that would take him: Meteor City. Gordon’s new hatred of rich executives who were only concerned about “trends” helped him sympathize with the poor who couldn’t afford the exquisite flavors of a 5 star restaurant. He then had the bright idea to bring that flavor to them and make it affordable, but he’d need someone to help him. Then, he found him: a young street urchin, roasting what looked like a dead rat over a fire in a cardboard box. The chef took pity on him, but also saw promise in him._

_“Hey kid, you look like you could use some real food,” he said, approaching the starving child._

_“Yeah, all there is in this alley are rats,” he said sadly. That was it. Gordon was obligated to take him in now._

_“You’re coming with me, you worthless fucking urchin! I’m going to hone those skills of yours!”_

_“Skills?” The boy was confused._

_“Well, you already know how to make a fine rat! You just have to add flavor to it, you nitwit!”_

_“Okay!” The boy grinned. “I’m Guy! What’s your name?”_

_“Call me Chef Ramsay. I’m gonna teach you the right way to cook, because there’s only one.” Gordon smiled back down at him and beckoned him to follow._

~~~~

From there, they found an abandoned house filled with cobwebs, cleaned it up, and started their business from scratch. Now, ten years later, his apprentice and surrogate son had left and gone who-knows-where, perhaps even killed, and his restaurant was a crime scene. He had mostly recovered from the shock since he had gotten out of bed, and was now bitterly recounting the events to himself, wondering what he did in life to deserve this fate. 

~~~~

_The relaxed chatter of people who had just gotten off work resounded through the dining room. Even in Meteor City, a den full of fugitives, drifters, and outcasts, there was still money to be earned, meager pay though it was. Of course, there were still people who would see money as unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, standing in the way of achievement. If ‘honest living’ meant what it was truly supposed to, people would give in to their primal impulses, their truest desires, and take what they want, when they wanted it. At least, that was what the kids on the street were saying these days. Ramsay would scoff to himself. They were just children trying to escape the inevitability of adulthood. Speaking of which, Guy seemed to be doing that right now. The lazy wanker went out a half hour ago and still hadn’t returned with the beef Wellington! As if by sheer coincidence, two disgruntled-looking men approached the counter, one a hobo in a bathrobe, the other a hulking, fat lard, about seven-foot tall with sausage fingers._

_“We’re a little short on beef Wellington at the moment, please come back later,” he dismissed the men in an irritated tone. Then, his eyes widened with recognition as he recognized the shorter of the two men. He had come in during lunchtime earlier and almost killed him for his apprentice’s failure. He was of the Phantom Troupe!_

_“I’m afraid we’re not here for your delicious beef Wellington this evening. We want to see your brat.” Ramsay wasn’t sure how to respond. Had these men come back to finish the job they started?_

_“He’s not here right now,” said Ramsay, attempting to stand his ground. “What do you want with him?”_

_“We’re asking the questions, hack chef,” said the man in the bathrobe, pointing to the katana that was strapped to his waist. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re hiding him.”_

_“He’s not in right now. Do you want to order something, or are you gonna continue to hold up the damn line?” It took all of Ramsay’s courage to say such a bold statement to a member of the Troupe, but he suddenly had a feeling that those would be his last words._

_“HEY RAMSAY!” The man drew his blade, and a vein popped from his crimson forehead. “I’M ONLY GOING TO ASK YOU ONE MORE TIME! WHERE’S YOUR BRAT?!” A silence fell over the patrons. That was the last straw for Ramsay. Even if Guy was a smelly little prick more often than not, he still cared about him like a father would a son. It was his duty to pass down his teachings, even if Guy wouldn’t listen to them._

_“YOU WALK INTO MY RESTAURANT DEMANDING TO TAKE MY APPRENTICE?! OVER MY DEAD BODY, YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING DONKEY TOSSER!” In an instant, the swordsman leaped through the order window and put the chef in a chokehold, holding his blade to his neck._

_“Your restaurant?” The swordsman scoffed. "We're regulars here. Our endorsement turned this shithole into the finest restaurant in the city. You may have your signature beef Wellington, but our trademarked Troupe Macs are becoming more popular. And that's why we can do whatever we want to this sad burger joint. Franklin! Open fire!"_

_“Looks like our mission is gonna be a bloody one. I never liked your Troupe Macs anyway,” said the giant. Franklin’s large fingers seemed to break in half, revealing what looked like shotgun barrels. Gordon watched, aghast, as he started firing bullets from his fingers into the innocent patrons. Those who attempted to run for the door were quickly shot down, as Franklin’s range encompassed almost the entire dining hall. It was an absolute slaughter. The leather booths and granite tables were now soaked with blood, and the tile floor was littered with corpses. Only the makeshift kid’s playplace outside, which consisted of a cheap plastic slide and a tire swing, was sure to be untouched. Gordon could barely hold in his tears. The Spider Shack, which had been running somewhat successfully for 10 years, was in shambles, all according to the whims of some street gang. He barely even noticed that the gunfire had stopped, along with the chatter in the dining room._

_“Don’t worry, you hack chef, we’ll keep you alive. We need you for a backup plan.” Without even stopping to consider the carnage they had caused, they left through the front door, leaving Ramsay to wallow in his sorrow in the kitchen._

~~~~

“Another business ruined, all because of some damn kids,” he said disgustedly. This time, he had tried and failed in a literal landfill. Gordon Ramsay, 40 years old and jobless once more, only wondered what he was going to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hey guys! Looks like I found time to post a new chapter in the midst of all this school bullshit. Now, I'm diving headfirst into studying hell. I already have the next three or four chapters planned out. Also, I may have overlooked a few details when posting so I made a few minor edits (I usually do from time to time.) Anyway, thanks for your continued reading! Peace!
> 
> \- Joey
> 
> Wait, I'm not done yet! It's time for some...SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION! (tm)
> 
> You can check out my other (completed) fanfic on this website as well! Just a short (compared to the odyssey of Guy Fieri) fic about Killugon during Christmastime. I understand that it's not exactly the right time of year to read it as I'm writing this. I honestly just didn't want it to be overlooked. Ach, I suck at promotion. Anyway, if you like angst followed by the appropriate amount of fluff, then give it a read! 
> 
> And NOW I'm out. Thanks for reading!


	8. A x Fresh x Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaaaack?
> 
> Me. I'm back! School was not fun to deal with and I also had personal bullshit happening, but I'm not gonna be a Youtube vlogger about it. This account is about my writing, not me. In any case, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Joey

It was know the second day of Guy Fieri’s Troupe membership. He was still half-asleep and gazing dazedly out of the stained-glass window in his new bedroom. Aside from the window and the lumpy mattress he lay upon, the room was featureless, but he didn’t really mind. In fact, he was beginning to enjoy his new life as a member of the already notorious street gang. Uvo was fun to be around, and Pakunoda forced him to confront his raging hormones. Chrollo hogged the TV and didn’t watch anything besides Food Network and early morning infomercials, but the young chef didn’t really watch much else himself. Even Nobunaga said to Guy that he “didn’t suck so bad after all.” However, as he got acquainted with his new comrades, he gravitated towards Shalnark, his new mentor. Something about his cheery, carefree personality struck a chord with him.

“Rise and shine! It’s time for your first day of training!” As if on cue, the blue-eyed blond poked his head into the doorway, greeting Guy with a friendly smile. The angstier of the two teens was still wiping sleep from his eyes.

“This early?” He groaned. “Can’t we wait until the afternoon, when I have more energy?”

“Afraid not! You’re gonna spend the whole day training, so we need to make sure to put some calories in you!” Shalnark seemed like the kind of person who could get two hours of sleep and still wake up feeling refreshed. Guy didn’t really like this, but since he was the most approachable member of the Troupe, he wouldn’t have anyone else as his mentor. He got up and followed him into the chapel, where the rest of the Troupe was gathered.  


“Morning, kid!” Uvo greeted him boisterously. “What’s for breakfast?” Guy hadn’t even considered that. Gordon usually cooked his meals for him, but now, as the official chef of the Troupe, he would have to cook for himself as well as eight others, every single day.

“I’m afraid he can’t waste his energy on cooking today, Uvo,” said Shalnark. Guy breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re gonna hit up the Starbucks down the street.”

“Typical, basic Shalnark,” snorted Nobunaga. “I’d rather drink raw sewage than their coffee.”

“Yeah, plus they don’t have bigger than a venti,” added Uvo. “And why the hell would you waste your money on bad coffee when you can just steal good coffee? You’re a thief, act like it!”

“What can I say? They have free WiFi, and their brownies aren’t that bad,” remarked Shalnark, as if nothing could offend him. “Plus, money isn’t an object when you’re a Hunter.”

“Tch, that Hunter license is worth nothing,” scoffed Uvo. “If you weren’t so exceptional, the boss would have never even bothered to address you.” Then he turned to Guy. “Don’t even bother with this exam, kid. Any one of us alone could take on five Hunters at once! That’s real power!” He laughed gleefully.

“I just wanna do it for the recognition,” Guy responded. “I don’t feel like Ramsay’s going to be very impressed if he knows I’m only cooking for a street gang.”

“Suit yourself,” said Uvo, somewhat annoyed. “You and I clearly have different ideas of glory. Enjoy your shitty coffee, you two.”

“Thanks! We will!” Shalnark waved as they departed.

“Wait! I’m coming too!” Machi, who had been disinterested in the Troupe’s squabble, suddenly came running up behind Shalnark and his new student. “I heard they have a new frappuccino called the Unicorn. I have to try it.”

“That poison?” Nobunaga practically spat the last word.

“I know it’s poison, but it’s trendy. Plus they’ll only have it for three more days,” retorted Machi. With that, the three left for the Starbucks down the street. 

~~~

Meteor City's Starbucks was clean and well-built, but dimly lit. Jazz music played through a small radio, but it was mostly drowned out by the chatter of the patrons. Some would say it only served to make the atmosphere more somber, but Shalnark seemed to think it was relaxing. As Troupe members waited for their breakfast, Guy began to wonder about Uvo’s disdain towards Hunters.

“Hey Shalnark, why did you become a Hunter?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Well, to get information, mostly,” explained Shalnark. “Being a Hunter grants you special privileges, as well as access to private information. That was simply too good to pass up!”

“The rest of us just prefer to torture information out of people,” stated Machi matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you’ll get used to torture as well.”

“I will if I have to.” Guy shrugged. “Also, since the boss wouldn’t tell me...why does he want the ultimate flavor so badly?”

“I’m sure you saw how much he appreciates cooking shows.” Machi rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of fondness in her voice. “He’s especially a fanboy for Gordon Ramsay. The recipe for the Troupe Mac is his. I guess he wanted to see if Gordon could create the ultimate flavor using his recipe. Or he just wanted to impress him.” Both Guy and Shalnark laughed.

“That’s incredible!” Shalnark chuckled. “Who knew our boss actually looked up to someone?”

“And Ramsay of all people,” added Guy. “After you spend ten years with him, you won’t be able to look up to him.”

“Yeah, that’s apparently what happened with the boss, too,” said Machi. “He probably decided he was tired of waiting for him to create something greater than lamb sauce.”

“That’s why he turned his attention to you, Guy,” interjected Shalnark. “He saw potential in you.”

“Potential?” Guy couldn’t help but feel flattered, but also strangely disheartened. After all, Gordon had essentially said the same thing when they first met, and he didn’t feel like he improved.  


“Yup, and here we are, about to train together.” Shalnark patted Guy’s shoulder. “The boss works in mysterious ways.” Machi nodded in agreement. Then, she heard the barista call her name and ran up to the counter excitedly, taking the pink and blue Unicorn frappuccino she had ordered. Returning to the table, she took a sip. Her eyes widened.

“It really IS sour!” She gasped in amazement, turning to Guy. “You HAVE to figure out how to recreate this.”

“Sure, but...why?”

“It’s trendy!” The teen shouted incredulously. “I live in an actual LANDFILL! They don’t even have a Sephora here to shoplift from, I can’t afford to NOT keep up with the times!”

“But it’ll only be here for three more days,” said Guy. “It won’t be a trend by then. Besides, something better will come along eventually. That’s what trends are.” Machi pondered for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right. This is disgusting.” Machi threw her venti-sized cup, which was still half-full, in the garbage. “I’ll see you guys back at base. And don’t either of you tell the boss what we talked about here.” 

~~~

“Alright, Guy,” Shalnark began energetically. “The first thing you can expect from the Hunter exam is an endurance test. Brute strength doesn’t mean anything if you can only fight for short periods.”

“I’ve worked two hours overtime on a regular basis,” Guy snarked. “Does that count as endurance?”

“That’s a start,” answered Shalnark. “But that’s not Hunter-level endurance. Why don’t you start by jogging around that basketball court?” He indicated an abandoned court with cracked pavement and broken hoops. “As many times as you can until you get winded.” Guy reluctantly started his training, getting to eleven laps before exhausting himself.

“Good start!” Shalnark handed him a bottle of water, and, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow, he gratefully accepted. “Take as long of a break as you need, then continue. We’re gonna be here all day.”

“Isn’t there a strategy aspect to the exam? Won’t I need to train in that as well?” Guy’s throat burned with the effort of having to take in so much oxygen.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Shalnark. “Your battle with Feitan already had plenty of strategy involved.”

“That was just luck,” the young chef panted. “He forgot to use the secret ingredient.”

“You still outwitted him,” said Shalnark, patting his shoulder. “You won because your strategy was more polished than his. He was too busy sabotaging you to care about his own dish.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Guy, guzzling the rest of his water. “But won’t I need to get stronger?”

“I already told you that brute strength didn’t matter,” Shalnark reminded him. “But there’s a little secret that a few select people know that can give you a great advantage in strength.”

“Sounds interesting,” said Guy. “Can we learn that instead?”

“Maybe next week,” said Shalnark. “I want you to be able to finish one hundred laps without getting winded first. Now get back out there!”


	9. A x Winning x Edge

It took Guy barely a week to master his endurance. On the second day, he was able to get to 25 laps. On the third, it was 33. By the seventh day of training, he passed 75 laps without breaking a sweat, eventually reaching his goal of 100.

“Nice job! You’re ready to move on!” Shalnark offered a high five, which Guy accepted. “Now, I’m gonna let you in on that so-called secret I told you about.”

“Just don’t tell me it’s something lame like P90X,” said Guy. Shalnark chuckled.

“I said it was secret, didn’t I? Let’s head back to base.” As they walked back into the Troupe’s hideout, Uvo greeted Guy.

“Ha, look at you, kid! You’re not a string bean anymore!” Uvo looked down at the teenager proudly. “But you’re gonna have to train for decades to get to my level!” He flexed proudly.

“I’m gonna be a chef, not a bodybuilder,” said Guy, in a somewhat more joking tone than his usual deadpan snark. Then, Chrollo got up from his throne of crates and approached the pair.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he admitted, scanning the young chef up and down. “Is he ready to learn Nen?”

“I think he is,” said Shalnark. When Guy shot him a confused glance, he elaborated. “Do you remember when Feitan tried to kill you with a miniature sun?”

“I’m sure he will never forget. That was a fun day,” said Feitan in his usual cold, quiet tone of voice.

“I did manage to kick you in the nuts,” retorted Guy. “Of course it was fun.”

“I would normally be upset, but I already gave your pain back to you,” Feitan shrugged.

“Anyway,” said Shalnark, ignoring them, “that was Nen. And if your Nen is powerful enough, you can beat someone twice your size in a battle of strength!”

“Sounds fun,” said Guy, his interest piqued. “But I’d like to be able to do something less flashy than Pain Packer.”

“Do I look flashy to you?” Feitan retorted in his usual monotone.

“Abilities come later,” said Shalnark. “Right now, I want you to start with arm wrestling."

“I believe Pakunoda ranked the lowest in arm wrestling among us,” added Chrollo. “We’ll set him up with her.”

“Why can’t I do it?” Nobunaga whined. “We may be on good terms, but we have a score to settle!” He protested, but to no avail, as everyone ignored him.  


“I won’t use my Nen for the first match. We’ll be on equal ground,” said Pakunoda. Guy gulped, as he still wasn’t sure how to feel about Pakunoda. As he and the blond woman sat at the table, extending their arms and clasping their hands, he found his eyes drawn to her partially exposed breasts, noting that she wasn’t wearing a bra. As Chrollo initiated the match, he desperately tried to think of Gordon’s beef Wellington to keep him focused on arm wrestling. With a little bit of effort, he defeated her.

“Nicely done,” said Pakunoda. “Now I’ll show you how strong I actually am.” Once again, each contender extended their arms. Guy saw a ghostly aura surrounding Pakunoda’s arm. Again, he felt a similar sensation to when he faced Nobunaga, but it didn’t feel as hateful. Within about three seconds of the match’s start, Pakunoda slammed Guy’s arm on the table. Somehow, she was even more attractive than she was earlier.

“That’s where you’ll be with just a little bit of practice. Come back and challenge me again once you’ve learned the ropes.” With that, the woman confidently strode away from the table, high heels clacking against the stone floor of the chapel. Guy was left at the table with his mouth agape. His attention was brought back to reality when Chrollo tapped him on the shoulder.

“You start your Nen training tomorrow,” the boss told him. “For now, I think we should stay in for dinner tonight.”

"Y-yeah, sure,” said Guy, pondering just how much power he could possess.

~~~

“Tonight! I present to you…” Chrollo had again put on his dramatic persona, addressing the Troupe at their makeshift dinner table of crates, “...Anthony Bourdain’s Korean fried chicken!”

“What the hell happened to the Troupe Macs?!” Nobunaga was less than pleased with dinner tonight.

“I wanted Guy to expand his repertoire,” explained Chrollo, effortlessly shifting back to his normal, stoic personality. “He’s getting stronger physically, and so he must also improve in a culinary sense.”

“It’s not good to have Troupe Macs every night,” said Franklin, apathetically eating a bologna sandwich with mayo, which barely extended the length of his palms.

“Oh, don’t preach to me about fast food when you eat that crap on a daily basis,” scoffed Nobunaga.

“All meat is crap,” said Pakunoda snobbishly. “You can get protein without poisoning yourself with grease.”

“YEAH?! AND WHERE THE HELL DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Uvogin roared from the other side of the table. “SHAKES AND SUPPLEMENTS CAN’T GIVE YOU **THESE** MUSCLES!”

“Look, I spent two hours on those wings, so I’d appreciate it if they didn’t go to waste.” Guy spoke up in a deadpan tone, regarding the argument around him with a bemused glance.

“OH, WHO CARES ABOUT _YOUR_ PROBLEMS, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!” Nobunaga instinctively drew his blade. “I’LL TEAR THAT ARM OF YOURS RIGHT FROM ITS--”

“Nobunaga.” Chrollo’s calm but authoritative voice resounded throughout the chamber. “What have I told you about fighting at the dinner table?”

“Tch, Franklin started it,” said Nobunaga petulantly. The giant simply rolled his eyes. Chrollo silently commanded the swordsman to eat his wings, which he grudgingly obliged, taking all the meat off the bone in a single bite. Unfortunately for him, this would prove to be a stupid decision.

“AHHHH! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU PUT IN THESE, YOU BRAT?! MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE!”

“Roasted chili oil, Korean red pepper--” Guy was cut off by Chrollo suddenly.

“I’m glad you asked,” he began excitedly. “To make the sauce, you use 8 garlic cloves, half a cup of maple syrup, a touch of soy sauce, a bit of fish sauce…” the boss continued to passionately list the ingredients until he had explained the whole recipe to the smallest detail.

“Wow...I never knew you were so knowledgeable about cooking.” Nobunaga was impressed.

“Wow, me neither,” Guy said with mock surprise, which earned him a punch on the arm from Machi, who silently mouthed to him: _“Not. One. Word.”_

“Of course I am! I was inspired heavily by Food Network! People such as Bobby Flay, Anthony Bourdain, even Gordon Ramsay…” Chrollo trailed off, and again became emotionless. “I wanted to steal their recipes. I’m a thief. Remember what I said about cooking being beyond Nen and all that?”

“Who is this Bobby Flay, anyway? How does he like his meat?” Uvo seemed interested as well.

“What about advice on how to steam vegetables?” Pakunoda inquired. “I’d be interested in that.” Chrollo paused for a moment.

“You mean you guys don’t think I’m less intimidating now that you know I like cooking shows?”

“You’re joking, right?! You’re the best leader we could ever ask for!” Uvo shouted his approval across the table.

“To doubt you would be to doubt the Troupe itself,” Shalnark contributed. “Isn’t that right?”

“You said you wanted to steal the ability to cook for yourself, didn’t you?” Feitan added. “That is a noble goal. I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“Me too,” Guy piped up. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help us reach our goals. You’re a better coach than Gordon ever was.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Chrollo looked pleased. Machi looked on fondly. “I propose a toast…” he raised his chalice… “to camaraderie, and finding the ultimate flavor!”

“CHEERS!” The Troupe sounded in unison. _This is my vision,_ Chrollo pondered to himself as he looked at his Troupe engaging in lively conversation. _We move as a collective...as a Spider. And the world will be forced to reckon with us._

~~~

“Well, Guy? Are you ready to begin your Nen training?” Instead of taking him outside, Shalnark had taken the young chef into a secluded former prayer room in the cathedral.

“Of course I am,” said Guy determinedly. “Whatever it takes to pass this exam.”

“Excellent!” Shalnark grinned widely. “I believe you already know what Nen feels like. Am I correct?” Guy thought back to the strange sensations he had experienced in the past.

“I think so,” he confirmed. “Like a white light almost, but sometimes I’d feel bad vibes from some of the Troupe. Especially from the hobo.”

“So Nobunaga must have initiated you, then. That must be the reason you saw Pakunoda’s aura when you were arm wrestling. You can see other people’s Nen, but you don’t know how to control your own yet.” It was beginning to make sense to the young chef.

“So there’s a way to learn?”

“Of course! That’s what brings us here,” said Shalnark. “Everyone has aura nodes through which they can control the flow of their Nen aura. Yours haven’t been opened yet, but I can open them for you now. I’ll have to ask you to remove that hoodie of yours.”

“But it’s my brooding hoodie!” Guy protested. “I’m 16 and I haven’t exactly had the best life, so I’m always brooding!”

“That personality of yours isn’t gonna look good on Food Network,” said Shalnark, “but that comes later. For now, we’re focusing on Nen.” Reluctantly, Guy removed his hoodie. Shalnark released a forceful burst of aura against the chef’s backside. Guy saw himself surrounded by a ghostly aura, but it was draining, and draining fast, like steam from a kettle.

“What the hell do I do?! It’s slipping away from me!”

“Just control the flux of the energy,” said Shalnark in an attempt to calm him. “Imagine yourself as a chicken wing being lathered in sauce.” Guy closed his eyes and pictured it in his head. He envisioned himself as a succulent, juicy chicken wing, and the aura as the sauce, so full of flavor. It was almost like he boarded a bus to Flavor Town. Then, he opened his eyes, and saw that the aura had stopped draining, and was instead coating him a in the form of a thin, white film. He felt aboslutely revitalized, and in his head, he knew that such power would easily earn him a Hunter’s license.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hey guys! Just wanted to put a little disclaimer here: Anthony Bourdain's Korean fried chicken is in fact a real recipe, and it is not mine. I've even put a helpful link below!
> 
> http://nuvomagazine.com/palate/best-korean-fried-chicken-recipe
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Joey


	10. Master x And x Student

“Excellent work, Guy,” commended Shalnark, “but you’ve only learned how to control your aura. Now you must learn how to apply it to combat.”

“Just how much will I need to learn before the exam?” Guy was beginning to get impatient.

“Not much more,” responded Shalnark. “Nen will give you a considerable advantage among other applicants. It’s exceptionally rare that an examinee already possesses Nen. Usually, only those who pass the exam get this kind of privilege. For now, you only need to know basic principles. For example, right now you’re using Ten.” When Guy looked confused, Shalnark pulled out a blank piece of paper and wrote several characters on it.

“This is Zetsu, the ability to conceal your presence,” he explained, indicating one of the characters. “And this is Ren, the ability to forcefully expand your aura,” he added, pointing to another. “Obviously, this is what you felt from Nobunaga. You felt his killing intent, didn’t you?”

“I only had to look at him to know he wanted to kill me. The Nen wasn’t necessary,” said Guy, rolling his eyes.

“Probably not,” agreed Shalnark, “as it would have been dangerous if he had kept exposing you to his Ren like he did. However, you don’t have to show hostility to force your aura out. Allow me to demonstrate.” With his aura surrounding him, Shalnark took a deep breath, and suddenly, the aura grew much wider around him, raging around him like a whirlwind, until he relaxed.

“For today, I want you to practice maintaining your aura,” instructed Shalnark. “I want you to be able to maintain your aura for 10 minutes straight without getting exhausted. When you achieve that, then we can move on to other techniques.” Guy inhaled deeply, and his aura appeared around him. After about thirty seconds, he found himself winded.

“It’s much harder than it looks,” admitted Shalnark. “Take a short break, then continue.”

“Yeah, sure.” Guy nodded and resumed his training.

_2 days later_

Shalnark pushed the button on his stopwatch at the 10-minute mark, and Guy collapsed to the stone floor, exhausted.

“Good job! You’re ready to move on! But first, show me your Ren.” Guy took a deep breath, then exhaled, forcing his aura off of his body, albeit by only a few centimeters.

“It’s not that big,” said Guy dejectedly. “Do I need to put more effort into it?”

“Not exactly,” consoled Shalnark. “Ren is often used as an indicator for strength. You need to train more, and for that, you must learn other principles.” He drew another character on his sheet of paper. “This is Ko, the ability to focus your aura into one part of the body. This will be important when we spar. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. Now, I’m going to punch your right arm.”

Guy focused his aura to his right arm, making it feel fortified. He felt no pain from Shalnark’s attack, until he made a jab with his other arm to his stomach.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You have to expect the unexpected when you’re a Hunter,” said Shalnark cheerfully.

“Are you kidding me,” said Guy, clearly not amused.

“Relax, it was a joke,” laughed Shalnark. All that aside, after a few weeks of sparring, you’ll be able to block me effortlessly. Now, let’s begin!”

_2 weeks later_

In no time, Guy was a master at combat. Not only did he manage to block Shalnark’s stomach jabs, but dodge it entirely at some points. After blocking Shalnark’s final blow to his head, the two combatants rested.

“You’ve improved immensely,” Shalnark panted, tired from sparring. “I think you’re ready to arm wrestle again.”

“Hell,” said Guy, also exhausted, “I might even be ready to settle the score with the swordsman.”

“Heh, we’ll see,” laughed Shalnark as they made their way out into the chapel.

“Boss, I think he’s ready for a rematch,” said Shalnark proudly.

“Excellent work,” said Chrollo. “Pakunoda. Would you care to try again?”

“Of course, boss,” said Pakunoda, boldly stepping up to the table where Guy had taken a seat, extending her hand. “Let’s see how much you’ve improved, boy. Just don’t let your eyes wander elsewhere, or you might lose.” When Chrollo initiated the match, both combatants flared their auras. Guy observed that Pakunoda’s collar was very low, but was determined not to let his hormones decide the match. He hoped his aura was responsible for the tingling around his nether regions, but as much as he could, he focused on the match. After straining enough to cause veins to appear on his forehead, Guy finally brought Pakunoda’s arm down on the table.

"Not bad, boy. You're one of us now," said Pakunoda, smiling. Chrollo applauded.

“You have passed,” the boss said, pleased. “Now, you are ready to register for the exam. But first, we must make preparations. Shalnark, since you are privy to information from the Hunter association, see if you can find the exam’s location on their website. I’d prefer not to play by their rules.”

“Right away, b--”

“Wait one moment.” Nobunaga stepped up to the table, eager to face the young chef. “The brat and I still aren’t even.” Guy grinned with determination, flexing his arm, which was still of an unremarkable size.

“I've been waiting for this, old man. I might have said no just a few weeks ago, but now, I think I'm ready to embarrass you in front of our comrades.”

“YOU BASTARD!" He roared. "You tried KILL ME with those hot wings a few weeks back! And for that, I will **NEVER** forgive you!”

“I’ll allow it,” said Chrollo with a wave of his hand. Guy sighed and confidently approached the table, extending his arm to the swordsman. Immediately, Nobunaga furiously gained an advantage, pushing on Guy’s arm with enough force to break his elbow, if he wasn’t using Nen. Just as the back of Guy’s hand was about to hit the table, he flared his Ren, which had grown considerably, and pushed back. Nobunaga put up a good fight, even as both combatants’ hands began to bleed. With one final push of Ren, Guy had won. To say that Nobunaga was unhappy was a huge understatement.

“DAMN YOU, YOU LITTLE BRAT!” Then he turned to Shalnark. “OI! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING HIM?! HAS HE BEEN LOOKING AT GIRLIE MAGAZINES FOR THE LAST THREE WEEKS?!”

“What can I say? I’m just a good teacher,” chuckled Shalnark somewhat nervously.

“Or maybe you should be reading more girlie magazines,” retorted Guy smugly.

**_“YOU INSOLENT LITTLE SNOT! I WASN’T AT FULL POWER! I WANT A REMATCH! I’LL CLEAVE YOU FROM HEAD TO TOE--”_** Chrollo, clearly tired of dealing with the swordsman’s meltdowns, simply waved a hand signaling for him to stop, which he obliged.

“Let’s go to Starbucks,” said Shalnark, ushering Guy out the front door of the cathedral. “They have the best Wi-Fi there.” 

~~~

The Troupe members sat at their table and had a simple breakfast of croissants. They tasted somehow better than they normally did, but neither of the outlaws really cared, as it wasn’t a reason to complain. Shalnark pulled out his laptop, which had obviously been stolen.

“Here’s where you register,” said Shalnark as he handed Guy the laptop. “It doesn’t ask for much else besides your name and your age.” Guy entered the information required. The computer then loaded a screen which read:

** By signing here, you understand that you are taking the Hunter Exam at your own risk, and that serious injury or death may occur. **

The young chef promptly typed his name in the box below. The screen that followed simply read: _Thank you for your application!_ Sighing, he handed the computer back to Shalnark.

“It doesn’t seem to be giving us a lot of information,” observed Guy.

“Not to worry,” said Shalnark, pulling a red card, adorned with two X’s on the back, from his pocket. He inserted it into a small slot hidden on the computer’s backside.

“This is a Hunter’s license,” explained Shalnark. “With it, I can easily find information that would not normally be accessible by ordinary people. Hopefully, this includes information on where the exam site will be.” Guy watched as a digitized bartender appeared on the screen.

“Hi stranger, what do you wanna know?” The bartender spoke in an artificial-sounding voice. Shalnark then clicked to request information about the Hunter exam.

“That’ll be 50 million,” said the bartender.

“What the hell? This is Meteor City! We don’t have that kind of money,” said Guy, frustrated.

“Oh, but we do,” responded Shalnark. “The boss doesn’t just keep all his treasure. He just auctions it off when he gets bored with it, then we earn a profit.” Guy nodded thoughtfully while Shalnark confirmed his payment.

“All applicants must travel to Dolle Harbor, where they will be escorted to the exam site.” Shalnark, who was expecting more, was disappointed.

“It’s not saying where the exam site is,” he said dejectedly. “I should have known. The Hunters’ Association tends to be secretive, and so they change the exam site every year.”

“So we have to play by their rules?” Guy scoffed. “That’s lame. I’m never going to find the ultimate flavor if I keep doing what society tells me to do.”

“There might be another way,” interjected Shalnark. “The boss will certainly have a solution for this situation. Let’s head back to base and--”

“--MORE LAMB SAUCE, YOU BRAINLESS DONUT!” The blond was interrupted by an angry outburst from behind the counter, which silenced the conversation of the customers. “DO YOU HAVE NO TASTE BUDS?! THIS CROISSANT TASTES LIKE FUCKING ARMY RATIONS!” Guy turned his head towards the familiar voice, and saw him there. There was not a shadow of a doubt in his mind. Gordon Ramsay, former Food Network star and restaurant entrepreneur, was now working minimum wage at Starbucks. Guy couldn’t help but smirk to himself, at least until his former mentor made eye contact with him. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Gordon finally spoke up.

“So...you’re still alive,” he said, clearly furious but carrying a hint of melancholy in his voice. “You have A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO, YOU LAZY FUCKING STREET RAT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hey guys! Holy shit I can't believe I've churned out 10 chapters already! Truth is, I don't exactly know how long this is going to turn out by the end, but I have a lot of plans. I would estimate at least 30 or so chapters, but that's just an uneducated guess.
> 
> Also, I have a new writing project on the way as well that's kind of out of nowhere. For those of you in the FMA fandom, you might know that May 1-7 is Edwin week, and because I love their relationship so much I decided to participate. Unfortunately, the rules state that I should keep it PG-13, and because I have _other plans_ , I'm going to deviate from the prompt a bit ;). Anyway, I'll try to write the prompts a few days in advance so I don't end up putting this project off for the whole week, which would suck. And I also have to balance school on top of all that, since the end of the semester is approaching faster that I would like. I'll try my dudes, I'll try.
> 
> That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Peace.
> 
> \- Joey


	11. Young x Chef's x Ambition

Guy was still sitting with his mouth agape. Seeing his former mentor in his current position was shocking as well as satisfying. After some time, he finally found his ability speak, but just barely.

“I...I--”

“Well, don’t just gawk at me, you idjit! I’m on break, so let’s sit and have a nice, long chat about all this horse shit that’s been happening lately.”

“Go ahead, we have time,” whispered Shalnark. “And don’t worry about leaving things confidential. It’s not like he can use your secret against us in any way.” Guy nodded and followed Gordon to a table in the corner and took a seat.

“As you might have heard,” Gordon began through gritted teeth, “there was a fucking bloodbath at the Spider Shack, and it had to be closed down.”

“W-well then, you should be glad I wasn’t there, otherwise I’d be dead now,” said Guy with a slight sneer.

“You’d be dead either way, you ungrateful prick,” retorted the older chef. “I would have killed you for coming back so late. But here’s the thing...the nutjobs who arse-fucked my establishment were asking for _you._ Care to explain why you’re getting involved with psychos?” Even though Shalnark told him not to worry about lying, the young chef still didn’t want Gordon to see him as a petty delinquent.

“M-maybe he was still upset about his sandwich,” attempted Guy, grateful that his lie was still at least partially true.

“Don’t be coy with me, you little bugger! No one would be that upset about a sandwich, not even the Phantom Troupe.”

“You’d be surprised,” Guy muttered under his breath.

“Speak up, you damn weasel!” Gordon was beginning to fume. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? Well? SPIT IT OUT, YOU PISSANT!” Guy was silent. “You’re a chav, aren’t you? You’ve been hanging out with those Phantom Troupe delinquents, have you?! If you had anything to do with the destruction of my restaurant, I’ll TEAR YOU APART! **NOW START TALKING!** ”

“They’re NOT DELINQUENTS!” Guy slammed his hands on the table for emphasis. Gordon was somewhat taken aback by his former pupil’s outburst.

“How can you say that?!” He shouted back. “They slaughtered my customers just because they could! What lies have those psychos been feeding you?”

“No lies at all,” the young chef jeered. “Only that you’ve been slowing me down, and you can’t teach people how to cook because you don’t leave room for error! I want to learn to do things MY way!”

“Slowing you down?” Gordon looked betrayed. “You little PEST! If it weren’t for me, you’d still be roasting vermin over a garbage fire in an alley! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart taught you everything I know! Without me, you wouldn’t even know how to light a damn stove! And that’s why you’re coming with me to work at this yuppie joint for the rest of your life!”

“What makes you think I’ll agree to that?” Guy spat the last word angrily. “I have ambitions, Ramsay. I want to be a Food Network star. I want to have a douchebag personality and even douchier recipes. I want to be a renowned Gourmet Hunter and discover the ultimate flavor. And the Troupe took me in and offered to help me achieve my goal, which YOU were getting in the way of!”

“I had ambitions too,” said Gordon. The sadness in his voice was plain to hear. “And look where I am now. These white-collared cocks only hired me because I had experience. I managed to get promoted to assistant supervisor because none of these wankers know what they’re doing, but I’m still at the bottom. If you try, you will fail.”

“No, I won’t.” Guy was resolute. “I’m different from you. There is no right way to cook, and unlike you, I realize that.”

“So...there’s no convincing you, is there, you little roach?” Guy nodded. “Fine then. But at least _I’m_ still making an honest living while you’re fucking around with a bunch of thieves and murderers. Don’t come crying to me when you get laughed out of your interview.” With that, Gordon stormed off and went back to work, while Guy angrily stomped back to his table.

“Let’s go back to base,” he said to Shalnark. His mentor nodded.

~~~

As he and Shalnark returned to base, Guy was bitter over how his former teacher reacted to hearing about his goals. Even though he no doubt had resentment for Gordon, the young chef still wanted to impress him, or at the very least, rub it in his face that he was better off than him. He took solace in the fact that he was still only starting out on his path to success. As the two Troupe members stepped through the doors of the cathedral, their raven-haired leader greeted them.

“Did you find any information on the location of the Hunter exam?” He spoke in his usual icy tone.

“Unfortunately, we didn’t,” explained Shalnark. “The Hunter’s Association doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming with that kind of information. We know only that all applicants must travel to Dolle Harbor before being taken to the proper exam site.”

“I see,” he pondered, before turning to Guy. “In that case, I’ll arrange for some of our members to accompany you to Dolle Harbor. We have more...underhanded ways of gathering information, after all.”

“There’s something else you might want to know, boss,” Guy interposed. “Ramsay’s working at Starbucks now.”

“HA! Really?!” Nobunaga, along with the other Troupe members, were close by, eavesdropping on the conversation. “He would have been better off if you shot him, Franklin!” The swordsman cackled with delight.

“Nah, he got what he deserved,” the giant retorted. “Anyone who works for the fast food industry is doomed for failure.” Nobunaga stopped laughing and looked somewhat disappointed with his friend’s response.

“Why do you have to be such a stick-in-the-mud, Franklin,” said the swordsman.

“Yeah,” added Uvo. “Besides, you’ll discourage our chef friend here!” He pointed to Guy.

“Hardly,” responded Franklin. “I think I did him a favor. If I hadn’t shot up his restaurant, he’d still be flipping burgers.” Guy didn’t know how to feel about his statement.

“How...how many customers were there in the restaurant?”

“Dunno.” The giant shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders. “I didn’t bother to keep count, but there was maybe fifty. Ramsay was refusing to answer our questions, so I just did what I had to do.” Guy recalled what Gordon had said about thieves and murderers at Starbucks. He knew what he was getting into, sure, and he was prepared to kill if necessary, but wholesale slaughter on this scale was not necessary at all. The young chef had heard many stories and rumors about the Troupe’s heists around town, even though the group was still relatively new, but he never imagined it would be like this.

“Heh, having second thoughts, brat?” Nobunaga taunted. He must have seen the horrified expression on Guy’s face. “If you back out now, you have nowhere to go except back to Ramsay.”

“Give him time, Nobunaga,” urged Shalnark.

“He’ll come around to our way of thinking eventually,” added Chrollo. Guy wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. “For now, we should start preparing for his journey to Dolle Harbor.”

“Y-yeah, I’m ready to set off now,” said Guy, happy to change the subject.

“The exams don’t start for another week,” Shalnark reminded him. “Plus, we don't have a car, and the only way to get to the harbor is by boat. We’ll have to find the nearest port city and take one of theirs.”

“Cool,” said Guy, “but how do we get to the nearest port from here?”

“Well, we did manage to steal a hot air balloon one time,” recalled Shalnark.

“That was a good day.” Feitan, who was almost hidden from Guy’s view due to his short stature, spoke up. “I’ll never forget their screams.”

“A bunch of rich people came to gawk and laugh at us from above for some reason,” scoffed Machi. “I thought they had better things to do, especially with all the Gucci they have access to.”

“How did you get them down?” Guy asked.

“I stabbed it with a needle,” said Machi proudly. “Luckily, I didn’t damage the balloon too much, and we managed to patch it up.”

“Don’t worry,” Shalnark reassured the young chef. “We won’t fall out of the sky or anything. I’ve tested it.”

“Then you’re set to leave. The balloon is being inflated just outside,” confirmed Chrollo. “Shalnark will accompany you as far as the exam site, as well as Machi, Feitan and Pakunoda. Their abilities are especially useful for gathering information.”

“This will be fun.” Despite the monotone in Feitan’s voice, Guy could hear a hint of glee very clearly.

"Those applicants won't be much of a challenge, though," remarked Machi.

“Come on, boss!” Uvo whined. “Why can’t I come along?”

“You don’t have subtlety, Uvo,” explained Pakunoda calmly. “Leave this job to me.”

“Your ability may be perfect for this mission, but I at least wanted to knock some heads.” The barbarian sighed. “Ah, well. I have full confidence in you, Guy Fieri. None of those rookies stand a chance!” Guy smiled.

“Thanks, Uvo,” said Guy. “I’ll prove that I’m no ordinary Hunter, and find the ultimate flavor!”

“That’s the spirit!” Uvo gave him a pat on the back as he followed Shalnark, Feitan and Pakunoda out to the hot air balloon. However, as they were about to depart, Chrollo interrupted them.

“Guy Fieri,” he called, “I wanted to ask a question before you left. Do you feel your victory was ill-won because you used lamb sauce?” The young chef pondered this for a moment.

“Maybe a little,” he answered, “but I’m happy knowing that I’ll find something better and prove Ramsay wrong. I look forward to that day.”

“An interesting answer.” The boss nodded. “In any case, the exams should last for two weeks. I’ll be expecting you back by then. Good luck to you.” He turned around, revealing the golden cross on his backside, and walked away. He watched proudly as his four subordinates took flight. _Go forth, my champion,_ he pondered to himself. _Show Ramsay what it means to TRULY be a chef._


	12. The x Troupe's x Method

“There’s a good place to land!” As the sun began to set, Shalnark indicated a vast, empty grassland and gradually began to lower the hot air balloon. The lush, green landscape was much unlike the dull, dry outcroppings and garbage heaps of Meteor City, and was divided in half by a solitary paved road. Finally, the basket began to bump along the ground, and the Troupe members exited, beginning to journey on foot.

“We’re just going to leave it here? Won’t we need it in the future?” Guy was understandably confused as to why they were leaving their balloon behind in the middle of nowhere.

“Psh, that ragged old thing? We can steal another one without much trouble,” said Machi confidently.

“Well, yeah, but we’re still a ways outside the city,” said Guy, pointing to the shimmering skyscrapers in the distance.

“We just have to wait until a car comes along,” said Shalnark. “Hopefully, someone will drive by before nightfall.”

“I’ll handle it,” said Pakunoda. “I can use my...charms to get us a ride.” She unbuttoned her collar a bit so that her breasts were exposed. Guy Fieri, 16 and hormonal, had no problems at all with this method. The blond woman stood at the edge on the left side of the road, waving her hands to draw attention to any passersby. To the Troupe’s luck, a car finally came around the corner, braking to a halt right next to Pakunoda. Inside the vehicle was a typical, middle-aged man with a stubble.

“Hey, gorgeous, where you headed?” He leaned out the car’s open window, and as his eyes met her bosom, he looked pleased with himself.

“Hello, kind sir,” said Pakunoda seductively. “I’m terribly lost and all alone. I can be your dream...just for tonight.” Shalnark stifled a laugh from the other side of the road, as Pakunoda looked disgusted with herself that she would even consider saying something like that.

“Well, hop right in!” The man opened the passenger door. “I’m just going to shack up at the nearest hotel. I’m sure I won’t mind someone else in my bed.”

“That’s the spirit, big boy,” said Pakunoda, obviously trying to hide her disgust as the man grinned perversely at her. “But is it okay if I bring my friends too?” She beckoned to the other four Troupe members to show themselves. The man suddenly looked hesitant.

“Well, it’ll be a little overwhelming, but...ah, what the hell. They can get separate rooms.” He pushed the button on the side to unlock all the doors.

“This won’t do,” said Feitan coldly. “There’s only room for five in this car.”

“He makes a good point,” said Machi, opening the driver door. The man suddenly looked apprehensive.

"Wh-Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The driver yelped as the pink-haired girl threw him onto the pavement. Guy observed as she picked him up by his shoulders and formed what looked like needles and thread out of thin air. This was obviously her Nen ability. She then wrapped them around his body.

“I-I can’t move!” He panicked as he struggled to break free. “What did you do to me?!”

“They’re invisible to him, right, Shalnark?” Guy whispered to his teacher. He nodded and continued watching the situation unfold with his usual smile.

“L-let’s not be unreasonable,” the driver stuttered. “T-there’s room in my trunk! Maybe the shortie can fit--” In one swift motion, Feitan lunged towards the man and beheaded him.

“I am _not_ cargo,” he said disdainfully, getting in the backseat. He turned to Guy, who was seated next to him, and said, “This is how we operate. Do you have an issue with that?” He must have seen the uneasy look on his face.

“N-no, I’ll come around to it,” said Guy, repeating Chrollo’s words and pulling his hoodie over his head as Shalnark hopped in the driver’s seat and made his way towards the city.

~~~

Shortly after arriving in the city, the Troupe had decided to bite the bullet and pay for a penthouse hotel room, containing several king-sized beds, a sofa, and plenty of amenities. Shalnark had reasoned that it would be easier to sail to Dolle Harbor during the daytime, and without the authorities breathing down their necks for what Feitan wanted to do to the hotel staff. It was now morning, and the Troupe was preparing for their voyage to the harbor.

“Alright, I found what direction we’re going! We’re off!” Shalnark closed his laptop, satisfied that he got the information he wanted.

“Ugh, do we have to go?” Machi came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “That was the hottest bath I’ve ever had.”

“We can always take some stuff from this room with us,” mused Guy.

“Very true. I’ll be right back.” She shut the bathroom door. After a few moments, Machi was clothed and carrying as many toiletries as she could carry.

“Very good,” approved Feitan as they walked out of the room. “You’re learning, Guy Fieri.”

“I’ve always been for leaving rich people worse off,” said Guy. “That’s the only useful lesson that Gordon taught me.” Together, the Troupe descended the elevator and went to get breakfast, which Shalnark paid for since he was the only one willing. As they finished off their breakfast of nothing but two dozen waffles and whipped cream, the television, which was barely audible over the conversation in the dining room, announced a breaking news bulletin.

"A missing person report has been filed for this man, Raffaele Ardito, aged 41,” said the journalist on screen. “He was last seen en route to Joumerra city at 3 PM yesterday afternoon. If you have any information on his whereabouts, you are to call the Mafia and inform them.” Guy’s heart nearly stopped when he recognized the man in the photo as the man whose car they had stolen. He had heard tales about the Mafia’s cruelty back home, and now, he might have incurred their wrath. He felt sweat drip down his brow. Shalnark lightly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Don’t draw any undue attention to us,” he whispered. “Just calmly put your plate on the dish rack.” Guy obliged, and walked as slowly as he could to the pile of dirty dishes in the corner, before briskly following the rest of the Troupe out of the hotel.

“I can’t believe I flirted with someone so old,” said Pakunoda, disgusted. “I’m about to lose all those waffles I ate.”

“That’s why I don’t take advantage of men like that,” said Machi. “I like to torture my information out of people.”

“How can you guys be so casual?!” Guy panicked quietly. “What if someone knows it’s us and calls the Mafia?!”

“You forget who we are. The Mafia will never know what hit them,” said Feitan in a tone that was both frightening and reassuring. Just as he said that, Guy saw two officers investigating their stolen car.

“Yup, this is his license plate, alright,” confirmed one officer. “Must be stolen.”

“Agreed,” said the other officer, who had a deeper voice. “Let’s check the hotel’s security footage.” Guy gulped.

“We have to find a boat. Now.”

“Just relax,” soothed Shalnark. "We'll find one soon enough." Eventually, the Troupe found a suitable, medium-sized yacht, but just as they were about to board and untie the dock rope, the ship’s owner, a man in a polo shirt and cargo shorts, caught them in the act.

“What the devil are you doing with my yacht?!” The sailor yelled haughtily. “Thief! Thi--” Guy observed as Shalnark quickly silenced him by throwing sort of dart into his arm. He then pulled out a demonic-looking cellphone.

“Black Voice,” he explained to Guy. “It lets me control anyone with this phone, provided they’ve been stuck with one of my antennae. Now, to put him on autopilot.” He pushed a button and the sailor set to his enthralled work, untying the rope, boarding the boat, starting the ignition, and setting sail. Any onlookers decided it was best not to interfere.

“You can do all that with a phone?” Guy was impressed.

“Yep,” said Shalnark proudly. “And I can even use him to steer. Now according to our directions, we want to head west…” he vicariously turned the wheel until the compass read correctly.

“Why don’t I have that kind of power?” Guy asked, disappointed.

“Not yet, Guy,” said Shalnark. “We have to find out what your type is first. I’ll explain it after you finish your exam.”

~~~

At last, the Troupe arrived at Dolle Harbor, a quaint seaside town. Shalnark had terminated the spell he had placed the sailor under, killing him. Guy was significantly less horrified the second time around.

“Now, let’s find out where the exam site is,” said Shalnark cheerfully.

“I doubt any of those applicants will know,” said Feitan, pointing to the people who were debarking the tall ship next to them.

“I agree,” said Pakunoda. “We might have to ask one of the examiners.”

“We don’t have to ask the examiners,” said Shalnark. “I already know how to find out.”

“Well? How?” Guy was getting impatient.

“We have to reach that cedar tree,” the blond explained, pointing to a faraway peak with a tall tree on top. “There, we will find navigators of some sort, who will then take us to the exam site.”

“Hold on a minute,” objected Machi. “Didn’t the boss say he would prefer not to play by the rules?”

“He did,” confirmed Shalnark, “but harming an examiner or navigator might get Guy disqualified. I’d rather not risk it.”

“I agree,” Guy spoke up. “Let’s go the safe route.”

“We’d be going against the boss,” argued Machi. “Besides, there’s always next year, isn’t there?”

“What if they don’t allow me to come back?” Guy argued back.

“Let’s settle this with a coin toss,” Pakunoda chimed in.

"That's dumb," Machi scoffed.

“Hardly. If anything, the boss would want us to work as a group instead of disputing like this.” She pulled a coin out of her pocket. Shalnark called heads, while Machi called tails. After the coin landed, the group decided in Machi’s favor. Guy sighed.

“Tell you what,” offered Machi. “We’ll take the blame for hurting the examiners. We’re not taking it anyway. Let’s go find a shortcut.” The Troupe was about to begin the ascent to the tree when they noticed a bus pull up next to them.

“There’s our shortcut,” said Machi.

“That’s a trap,” said Shalnark. “They would never make it so easy to reach the tree.”

“There might still be a shortcut, though,” added Feitan. Shalnark nodded thoughtfully.

“Allow me.” Pakunoda stepped forward through the open door. She then inquired the driver, “Do you know what the quickest way to the exam is?”

“Why, it’s this one!” The driver proclaimed. “You’re in luck!” Pakunoda beckoned Machi over, who strung him up with her Nen threads. The driver yelped in shock.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Is there a real shortcut to the exam?” With her hand still on his shoulder, she studied the driver closely, as if searching for something, while he struggled to move.

“I’m not finding anything,” said Pakunoda. “There’s no shortcut after all.”

“You mean...this is a trap?!” One of the passengers incited an outrage, and forcefully removed the driver from his seat along with the rest of the mob.

“None of them are worthy of being Hunters,” whispered Feitan coldly. “Not if they fall for a cheap trick like this.” Surrounding himself with sinister aura, he drew a hidden blade from his leather suit, slicing open all forty or so passengers and the driver. Any onlookers who did not fall for the ruse fled in terror, while Feitan gave chase, skewering one after another.

“I...I’m glad he’s on our side,” said Guy shakily, beginning to get numb to the murder around him.

“Alright, Feitan, enough fun,” Pakunoda called out. “We have to move on.”

“You’re lucky I’m just mildly frustrated,” said Feitan, removing his blade from an applicant’s abdomen. “Otherwise I would have killed you for ruining my fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pakunoda dismissed him as they began to ascend to the tree.

~~~

_“There was a slaughter down at the harbor! And all of them were applicants! Who could have done this?!”_

_“Just call the Chairman. He’ll deal with them.”_

_“That old kook? He’ll let anyone take the exam as long as they don’t kill an examiner. Plus, I have no direct contact with him.”_

_“If they upset you that much, just let us handle it. Monster unto monster, right?”_

_“Fine. I’ll send them your way.”_ Click.


	13. Rules x Vs x Beliefs

“My legs are killing me.” As the five Troupe members walked along the steep dirt path that would eventually lead them to the cedar tree, Machi was complaining. “Pakunoda, are you positive that you couldn’t find anything about a shortcut?”

“Absolutely,” confirmed Pakunoda. “I searched his deepest memories and could find nothing. Maybe the Hunter Association doesn’t communicate this kind of information with him.”

“That does not mean there are still no shortcuts,” added Feitan. “Maybe we should just find our own.”

“Good thinking, Feitan,” Shalnark commended him. “There’s a town nearby. Why don’t you scale the rooftops and look for a way around? We’ll catch up with you.” Feitan nodded silently, and disappeared into thin air.

“Hey, Pakunoda, what Nen ability do you have?” Guy inquired curiously as they continued walking. “Can you read minds or something?”

“In a way, yes,” she replied. “As long as I’m touching them and asking the right questions, I can dig up any information I want to.”

“That’s off the hook!” Guy cringed when his fellow Troupe members gave him weird looks. He was usually averse to that kind of slang. What made him say that? Was it a symptom of some unconscious desire bubbling to the surface? He decided to double check.

“Pakunoda, this is a weird question, but would you care to try your mind reading on me?” She gave him a scrutinizing look. “Just a few basic questions to start.”

“I don’t see why not.” She put a hand on his shoulder, which made him far more uncomfortable than when they had arm wrestled.

“Oh, so you like me that way, do you?” Pakunoda didn’t even have to ask a question to realize this. She immediately removed her hand. “That’s cute, but you’re too young for me. Maybe Machi would be more your type.”

“You must be joking,” Machi snorted.

“Then Feitan, maybe,” said Pakunoda. “You’re both brooding types, aren’t you?”

“Not happening. He’s tried to kill me,” replied the young chef. Then, after a few seconds of silence, Pakunoda spoke again.

“So you asked me to read your thoughts so you could tell me you were hitting puberty?”

“N-no reason, I was just curious.” He laughed nervously. Guy Fieri thought he’d never be happy to see Feitan until he saw him return from his scouting mission as quickly as he left, putting an end to the unpleasant conversation.

“Well? What did you find?” Machi asked impatiently.

“Nothing. There’s water surrounding the mountain, but we couldn’t access it with a boat. It’s a lake cut off from the rest of the ocean.” Feitan then pulled a severed head out from behind his back. Guy was less than surprised at this point.

“Another applicant?” Shalnark asked.

“I suppose so,” Feitan shrugged. “He saw me on the rooftop, so he started squealing about me breaking the rules. I could not let anyone hear that.” He then turned his dull, emotionless eyes towards Guy. “You see? We never kill without reason, Guy Fieri.”

“Well, yeah, but...did you have to?” Guy was more confused than horrified now.

“When the situation calls for it, you will know the answer to that question,” was Feitan’s cryptic answer. Without another word, Guy continued up the hill towards the cedar tree.

~~~

 

The Troupe came upon a deserted alley along the dirt path, sectioned off from the other houses along the harbor.

“It’s too quiet here. This must be a trap,” remarked Machi.

“This is only the preliminary Hunter exam,” said Shalnark. “It would be unfair to any potential applicants for them to be attacked right now.”

“It’s their own fault if they’re not prepared for the unexpected,” said Feitan. “And besides, if there was an ambush here, I would have spotted them first from the rooftops when I scouted ahead.” Suddenly, a large, metal door they had passed by opened, and out of it rolled a large wooden cart resembling a stage of some sort. It was driven by an old woman surrounded by several figures with masks.

“Exciting…” she whispered in a raspy voice. After a long pause, she shouted, “EXCITING MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZ!” Her announcement was followed by a raucous fanfare, leaving the Troupe confused.

“Are we going to attack her?” Guy whispered to the other Troupe members.

“If you’re headed for the cedar tree, you must pass through this town,” the old woman spoke. “And that means you must answer my question correctly...or be disqualified.”

“It’s safer that we don’t attack her. She’s an examiner,” whispered Shalnark. “I say we play along, just this once.”

“I agree,” said Pakunoda. “Besides, we already know what our destination is. We just have to answer a simple question, anyway.” Feitan snapped his fingers in disappointment.

“If you’re done being secretive over there, I’d like to ask my question now,” the old woman said impatiently.

“Sorry, ask away,” said Guy.

“Here is my question, then. Your mentor and your dearest friend are both captured by bandits. You can only save one. The other will die. Say 1 for your mentor, 2 for your friend.”

“Individual lives don’t matter,” Machi stated matter-of-factly. “The survival of the group is what matters. That’s why, when you kill a spider, you must crush its head.”

“Machi!” Guy protested.

“Is that your answer?” The old woman intoned.

“What?! Of course not!”

“Then what is it? You have five seconds.” Before Guy had a chance to blurt out whatever came to mind, the examiner announced that time was up.

“You pass. You may proceed through this door.” She had her puppets open a large door opposite the one she entered through, revealing a long, dark corridor. “Continue this way towards the cedar tree.” The Troupe then continued on their way wordlessly. When they disappeared out of sight, the old woman pulled her phone out of her pocket and called a number in her contacts.

“Are you sure it was them?” A guttural voice sounded from the other end of the line.

“Yes. They were clearly powerful fighters,” the old woman replied.

“And did they pass?”

“Barely, but I would have let them pass regardless. It seems the kid is the only one of them with a conscience.” The examiner had a hint of fear in her voice. “I fear he may lose it if he sticks with them, whoever they are.”

“Just relax. We’ll deal with them. After all, we are not ordinary fighters ourselves.” The voice hissed with high-pitched laughter.

~~~

At last, as night began to fall, the Troupe began to ascend the mountain proper, which would eventually lead them to the cedar tree, silently preparing for whatever lay ahead. Then, Guy broke the silence.

“Machi! Why would you answer her question incorrectly?!”

“It’s our philosophy, and it’s what I believe,” said Machi frankly. “Was I supposed to lie just to help you?”

“You’re not a good liar anyway,” Guy countered. “Anyone can see how much you wanna suck the boss’ d--”

“I suggest you stop talking, you brat.” The pink-haired teen dangerously flared one of her Nen stitches in his direction. “You don’t know how I really feel about the boss, so stop acting like you do.”

“Calm down, Machi,” said Shalnark. “The boss may not be here, but the rule still stands. There’s no physical fights among Troupe members.”

“Right. Of course.” The Troupe continued walking until finally, they reached the cedar tree. Sheltered underneath its colossal branches was a small cabin.

“This is where we’ll find the navigators,” Shalnark explained to his teammates. “They should have some sort of test prepared for us, then take us to the exam site.”

“What happened to not playing by their rules?” Feitan challenged.

“We’ll fight them if we have to,” said Shalnark. “Just follow my lead.” The blond knocked on the door, and when nobody answered, he slowly creaked it open. Inside, there was a man tending to an injured woman. Both of them wore tribal clothing.

“Please! You have to help us! We were attacked by horrible beasts! They almost killed my wife!”

“Which direction did they go in?” Guy asked.

“They flew towards that cliff over there…” the injured woman wheezed. “Hurry and kill them! I’m sure they’ll be back to finish us off!”

“Let’s go!” Guy beckoned for the Troupe to follow him.

“This feels too...heroic,” Feitan complained as they went in the direction the woman indicated.

“Just play along,” Shalnark insisted. The Troupe cautiously crept their way through the thick forest, their path illuminated only by the moonlight. Soon, they came across a large, foxlike creature with extremely long limbs and claws, standing about two meters tall. It seemed to be attacking an old woman. It turned its eyes, which glowed red in the darkness, towards the Troupe. Its mouth was wide open to reveal sharp fangs.

“Go away! You’re disrupting my dinner! Unless you wanna be dessert!” The creature growled.

“There’s no need for the false pretenses, dear,” said the old woman, her voice beginning to change. “They’re the ones we were told to kill.” She then transformed into a creature identical to the one who was apparently attacking her.

“What the hell are those things?!” Guy asked, frightened.

“They’re our navigators,” Shalnark explained. “Kiriko. Intelligent, shape-shifting magical beasts who can change into human form at will. These particular Kiriko serve the Hunter's Association as navigators by guiding applicants to the exam site. But something is wrong. They intend to kill us.” Just as Shalnark finished his sentence, the two Kiriko moved to flank the Troupe from either side, growling and baring their teeth.

"We're gonna tear the flesh from your bones, YOU FILTHY MURDERERS!" This time, Guy Fieri had to fight back at all costs, or he would surely die.


	14. Monsters x And x Men

Before any of the Troupe could react, the two Kiriko lunged at them from either side, causing the five of them to scatter. One of them effortlessly picked up Guy in its talons, sprouted wings from its back, and flew away. The other was being fended off by Feitan, feverishly attempting to gouge him with its claws.

“Since you’re the youngest, I’ll give you a quick death. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a murderer.” The monster looked down at Guy with pure rage in its eyes.

“Murderer?! I never killed anybody!” Just as the creature was about to make short work of Guy by dropping him over the cliffside, Machi weaved a thread around the creature’s long arm and brought it to the ground, with Guy in tow.

“Be on your toes, you moron! Fight back!” She yelled at him. He nodded, activating his Ten, while Machi barely dodged its talons and escaped into the shadows. The young chef went for its groin, only for it to grab his leg and thrash him around like a ragdoll. Meanwhile, Feitan attempted to turn around and stab the other Kiriko’s back, only for it to be just as quick and turn around just in time to deflect. The speedster tried an aerial assault, also to no avail. The two zigzagged back and forth across the forest floor at amazing speed, and when Feitan finally managed to take a stab at the creature, the blade did not pierce its hide. Pakunoda attempted to shoot the creatures with her gun, but the bullets failed as well.

“Your weapons won’t work on us,” one creature taunted. “We are far beyond mere humans in strength.” It took swipes at Pakunoda, leaving a large scratch in her side. Feitan barely managed to prevent Pakunoda from being killed by the creature’s talons as she lay injured on the ground.

“So you do have some honor after all,” the Kiriko mused, “but why not extend it to all the applicants you’ve killed?!” The speedster simply did not answer, only attempting to puncture its neck with his hand. The creature suddenly looked fearful, quickly moving to grab Feitan in a chokehold and slam him into the ground. It then grabbed Pakunoda with its other arm and did the same.

“So, you found my weak spot, you little pipsqueak.” The creature laughed. “But it will do you no good. Now PERISH!” The other Kiriko simply looked on before turning to Guy.

“I can see you are less experienced than the others. You must be new,” it hissed. “If you continue to run with this crowd, you’ll simply end up dead yourself. I’ll give you a chance to surrender and back out before that happens.”

“Never! This is the only way I can be truly free to do what I want!”

“Then you’re just like them.” The creature began to thrash Guy around by the leg, repeatedly bashing him. He could feel his brain bombarding around inside his skull with each strike. His vision became blurry, and his hearing became muffled. Then, just as he was about to pass out, Machi made her move, binding the creature with her threads and freeing Guy from its clutches. After a brief struggle, the beast was able to break the threads.

“What?! How?! You weren’t even supposed to see those!”

“I’m not exactly human, you see,” the creature laughed. “You think just because it’s made of Nen means it’s unbreakable? You have a lot to learn, girlie!” Its attention was immediately drawn to Machi, who took a swipe at her arm, deeply puncturing her skin. Guy, whose head was still spinning from being slammed, regained his senses and rubbed his eyes so his could see more clearly. As swiftly as his legs would carry him, rushed to stop the creature from killing Machi, who was lying defenseless on the ground. He successfully grabbed its arm, distracting the creautre, and held onto it with all his might. He flared his Ren as the Kiriko attempted to shake him off.

“A little help here!” He called out desperately as he looked around at his injured comrades. Suddenly, Shalnark jumped down from the treetops, landing softly behind the Kiriko, and stuck a needle in its nape. Now that it was under Shalnark’s control, the beast fell limp.

“You made fine use of Ren against a stronger opponent! Good work, Guy!” Shalnark complimented his student.

“Thanks,” Guy panted, still dazed from the attack.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Machi in a more sarcastic tone, stitching her wounds with her threads. “You were just gonna sit in a safe spot and watch us get killed?”

“Of course not!” Shalnark gave her a disconcerting smile. “I was waiting for an opportunity to subdue one of them.” He pulled out his cellphone and commanded the monster to attack its companion, forcing it to release Feitan and Pakunoda. The two gasped for air on the ground as Machi tended to their wounds.

“You monster! What did you do to my husband to make him attack me like that?!” The Kiriko attempted to attack, only for Shalnark to manipulate her husband into shielding the Troupe, which made her falter.

“I can release him from my command, but he will die,” said Shalnark in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your choice.” The creature surrendered, letting Feitan, Pakunoda and Machi restrain her.

"You’re going to tell us where the exam site is,” demanded Pakunoda.

“Oh, you think so?” The Kiriko uttered a shrieking laugh. “Our children will come. And then, you will die. All I have to do is wait. You will never get a word out of me!”

“Who said anything about words?” Pakunoda smirked as she grasped the creature’s wrist and set to work. 

~~~

“What do you hope to accomplish?” The Kiriko mocked. “I already said I wouldn’t talk.” Pakunoda merely ignored her.

“Which direction is the exam site in?” As she began interrogating the beast, Pakunoda saw its memories in her mind, flashing before her. If it could be seen with the eyes, the memories would appear to pass in fractions of a second in an incomprehensible blur. She dove deeper and deeper, until finally, like a dart hitting a bullseye, she found the information she needed. In her mind’s eye, Pakunoda saw what looked like a small sushi bar, tucked away behind much larger skyscrapers. It was an inconspicuous place, which was probably appropriate for the exam site.

“What are you waiting for? I already said--”

“Naruto Cafe,” said Pakunoda aloud.The creature gasped.

“That’s a stupid name for an exam site,” Guy scoffed.

“H-how?! I didn’t say a word!”

“Didn’t I already tell you I didn’t need words?” The mind-reader boasted. “Words are usually unreliable, but your thoughts always tell the truth. Now, which direction is the exam site in?” The creature tried to resist her question to no avail. Again, Pakunoda found what she was looking for.

“It’s to the west,” she told the Troupe. “In the city at the center of that valley.”

“Did you find out what path we need to take?” Shalnark asked.

“Of course,” she confirmed. “Would you like me to pass on that information?” Shalnark nodded. The mind-reader pulled out her pistol and surrounded herself in a hazy purple aura. She aimed her gun for Shalnark’s head.

“W-whoa! What are you doing?!” Guy was shocked at her actions.

“Just watch,” Machi silenced him, giving him a smirk. Pakunoda fired a glowing bullet straight at Shalnark’s forehead, making him reel back from shock. After a few seconds, he rose his head back up.

“Got it,” he confirmed. “I can take us there using the Kiriko under my control.”

“Then we have what we need,” said Pakunoda, “but first, I have one last question. Who told you to kill us? It’s my understanding that navigators aren’t supposed to kill applicants.”

“No! Leave her out of th--” the Kiriko pleaded, but stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Shalnark. “You...I recognize you! From last year’s exam! You had such promise, dear boy! What made you fall so far?!”

“I don’t think I’ve fallen,” Shalnark answered seriously. “As an information hunter, it’s my job to gather information, by whatever means necessary. Being in the Troupe gives me more freedom to do so.”

“Does that include turning my own husband against me?! The way I see it, you’re more monstrous than I am!” To Guy’s surprise, the creature started crying. Shalnark didn’t answer her question.

“There’s no use stalling,” Pakunoda said coldly. “I already have what I need. It’s the old woman who gave us the quiz.”

“I knew we couldn’t trust her,” Feitan muttered under his breath.

“DON’T HURT HER! PLEASE!” The creature begged through its tears.

“Why not? She gave you the order,” said Feitan.

“She’s just a middleman in the exam! She can’t even defend herself! Kill me if you want, but don’t touch her!” The Kiriko began sobbing.

“There’s no point harming her anyway. It would be a waste of time,” said Pakunoda. “Shalnark, we’re ready to leave.”

“Excellent. I’ll put the Kiriko in autopilot. Hold on tight!” The Troupe obliged, and held onto the Kiriko’s talons. With the push of a button, the creature unfolded its wings and took flight. As his wife screamed in agony, two more Kiriko showed up.

“Grandmother! Are you alright?” They looked up to see the Troupe departing on their grandfather’s back. “What have they done to him?!”

“I don’t know,” the grandmother wept. “But they’re controlling him somehow.”

“What are we waiting for?! Let’s go after him!”

“No,” the grandmother told them sternly. “If any other applicants happen by, you need to guide them. I’m going after him myself.”

“B-but grandmother! That’s suicide! They defeated both of you together!”

“It may be suicide, but it’s a chance to get him back.” She wiped her eyes with her long arm. “You stay here! I’ll not have you two killed!” The younger Kiriko hesitated, but nodded.

“Y-yes, grandmother. Good luck.” She nodded back at her grandchildren and took flight, flapping her wings to catch up with her husband.

“We’re being followed!” Guy, who was avoiding looking down, instead looked behind, noticing the Kiriko. “Can’t this thing fly any faster?!”

“Afraid not!” Shalnark yelled. “But we can try dodging her!” He maneuvered the Kiriko in a zigzag motion. Suddenly, the female Kiriko was below them, nipping at Guy’s heels.

“RELEASE MY HUSBAND, YOU BASTARDS!” It growled. Feitan attempted to kick the monster in the face, but it dodged and bit down on his foot. Feitan, who was attached to the Kiriko’s other leg, pulled a dagger out of his pocket and aimed for the Kiriko’s jugular. Since she was too focused on Guy, the beast didn’t have time to dodge.

“OW! That stung.” The Kiriko pulled the dagger out and continued pursuing the Troupe. Shalnark turned the controlled Kiriko around and attempted to strike her, but he missed, failing to stop her pursuit.

“Don’t you have another needle, Shalnark?!” Machi yelled.

“Can’t! We need to focus on reaching the exam site!” The Kiriko began to bite down on Feitan’s heels. The creature grabbed his blade as he aimed for its neck spot once again.

“Climb away from her!” Guy yelled.

“How about you help me, then.” Feitan tossed Guy his blade. He hesitated. “What are you waiting for?! Do it!” He closed his eyes as he prepared to let go of the Kiriko’s talons.

“Machi!” He called up to her. “I have a plan! Get your thread ready!” She nodded. Closing his eyes, Guy let go. The Kiriko turned her attention to Guy, Machi caught him with her thread and lowered him onto the female Kiriko’s back. Taking Feitan’s blade, he stabbed the back of the creature’s neck as it tried to shake him off. Gasping for air through a mouthful of blood, the grandmother Kiriko became limp and began to fall. Machi caught the young chef before he could fall along with her, and he watched, horrified, as the lifeless creature plummeted to its grave. Finally, as the rays of the morning sun appeared in the east, the Kiriko they were riding landed by the exam site. Shalnark pushed a button, and the grandfather Kiriko fell to the ground with a thud.

“AH! MONSTER!” An unsuspecting citizen cried at the sight of the creature’s body, prompting other citizens in the streets to flee.

“You have done it,” Feitan praised Guy in his usual emotionless tone. “You know what it is to kill.” The teen chef was still shaken by what he had just done, but he accepted the truth.

“We never kill without reason. Isn’t that right, Feitan?” He asked seriously. Feitan nodded approvingly.

“Well, it’s time for breakfast!” Shalnark led the Troupe cheerfully through the city streets. As he watched the sunrise, Guy Fieri realized he couldn’t change his past. He and his mentor were now enemies, and there was now blood on his hands. He could only look ahead to the future. A future as a Gourmet Hunter.


	15. Some x Fierce x Competition

“Naruto Cafe? Are you sure this is a good spot to have breakfast, Shalnark?” Machi stared disgustedly at the restaurant’s exterior. The small brick structure would have otherwise been unremarkable if it weren’t for the large stickers on the windows, all of which depicted an obnoxious-looking kid in an orange jumpsuit, holding a kunai knife. “This looks like a scam.”

“This is where the exam site is, isn’t it? It’ll save us time.” Shalnark, blissfully apathetic about the cringeworthy decor, stepped through the doorway, followed by the rest of the Troupe. Before they could take a seat in the waiting area, a pale, acne-ridden youth a little younger than Guy approached them. He proudly wore the restaurant’s employee uniform: an orange vest and pants, sandals with velcro straps, and a headband with an odd, spiraling insignia on it.

“O-ohio! Yo-ko-so wa Na-ru-to Cafe!” The employee spoke in a loud, prepubescent voice with abrupt changes in pitch, and was obviously attempting to speak a foreign language.

“If Nobunaga were here, he’d be dead,” Pakunoda whispered just loud enough for the rest of the Troupe to hear. Guy snickered.

“Ret me show you to your TAY-be-ru!” The group looked visibly uncomfortable as the employee hunched over, put his arms behind his back, and ran to a booth in the corner.

“What the hell is this place?” Machi was very clearly horrified as she scanned the room, seeing nothing but greasy men with neckbeards chatting loudly about something inane as they sloppily devoured their ramen.

“Don’t stiffen up like that,” Feitan whispered to his frightened companion. “They can probably smell fear.”

“Let’s get this over with,” said Guy as the Troupe took their seats. “At least no one saw us go in.”

“Good point,” Machi agreed. “Let’s just get you into your exam and get out of here.”

~~~

The service was surprisingly fast at Naruto Cafe. In 20 minutes, the Troupe’s order was ready. Pakunoda daintily took in spoonfuls of her miso soup, Feitan silently ate his dango, while the rest shared a large sushi platter. With every order came a styrofoam cup of ramen noodles, and a beverage which was suspiciously named “Chakra in a Cup”.

“This ramen isn’t bad,” said Guy, “but it could use more flavor. Maybe some pork, chili flakes...oh yeah, that’s a one-way ticket to Flavor Town.” There was a long pause as the Troupe looked at him, concerned.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Pakunoda witnessed him acting strangely on their way up the mountain.

“Huh? Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Guy hastily resumed eating his ramen, almost choking on it.

“That was a good observation, Guy.” At least Shalnark was willing to look past his odd behavior. “You’ll make a fine Gourmet Hunter.”

“Thanks, Shalnark.” Guy gave a small smile at the compliment. “But how are we gonna get in? There’s nothing that would indicate that this was the exam site.”

“I believe we need a code to get in,” pondered Shalnark. “The Kiriko probably could have told us, but I figured it was trivial. We can easily find another way in.”

“We could always torture the answer out of one of these waiters,” suggested Feitan, pointing to the employees shrieking in the kitchen. They were speaking so loudly that Guy could pick up their conversation from the far side of the restaurant.

“OH MY KAMI! SASUKE IS SUUUUCH A DREAMBOAT!” Guy assumed it was a female voice, but it sounded rather like the world’s most annoying chipmunk.

“UGH, NO HE’S NOT!” A nasal male voice responded. “ICHIGO WOULD TOTALLY KICK HIS ASS! HE’S GOT THE SUSANOO BACKING HIM UP!”

“WATASHI DON’T FRICKING CARE ABOUT YOUR BLEACH SHIT YOU BAKA! SASUKE IS SOOO KAWAII AND HE DOESN’T DESERVE THAT SLUT SAKURA!”

 **“STOP BEING SOCIAL OUTCASTS AND START MICROWAVING THAT RAMEN!”** An older, more authoritative voice rang out through the kitchen, presumably the manager. The more they spoke, the more Guy wanted to get out of here, and possibly even kill them.

“Forget about dessert,” Machi huffed.

“Agreed,” said Guy. “How do we get in, Shalnark?” Just then, a group of neckbeards walked past the table. One of them gasped with recognition, pointing at the group.

“Hey! I know you!” The one who spoke was holding a body pillow with some generic anime girl on it. He hocked a loogie. “I saw you while mindlessly flipping channels yesterday!”

“Oh? Are we famous?” Guy asked cheerfully.

“Well, yeah, I guess! Apparently you guys killed some Mafia bigshot! Rafaele or something like that.” Because he obviously couldn’t keep his voice down, every head in the restaurant turned towards the table. 

“Pretty cool, if you ask me! Just like one of my Japanese cartoons!”

“It’s called ANIME, you pleb!” Another one of the group reprimanded his friend.

“Oh, SHUT UP, you fat weeaboo! Now, as I was saying...I’m studying the blade right now and I was wondering if you could teach me! That would be so c--” He was cut off when Pakunoda shot him in the head, which caused everyone to flee the restaurant. Feitan was about to give chase when Shalnark stopped him.

“Let them go. They’re not worth it.” The Troupe barged into the kitchen, and Guy grabbed hold of one of the waiters who was cowering behind the stove.

“You! Tell me how to get to the Hunter exam so I can get out of this hellpit!” He yelled impatiently.

“O-okay! It’s through that elevator!” He pointed to a sliding door at the back. “Please let me live! Attack on Titan has a new season this year!”

“You’re pathetic.” Guy spat on the waiter. “You can live.” As he left for the elevator, he turned towards the Troupe to bid farewell.

“You’ve grown, Guy Fieri,” remarked Feitan. “I wish you luck.”

“Same here,” added Machi. “Go kick some butt or whatnot.”

“You’ve got skill, kid,” said Pakunoda. “You even managed to beat me at arm wrestling. I know you can do this.”

“Remember everything I taught you, Guy,” said Shalnark proudly, handing him a plain-looking cellphone. “If you ever need to contact the rest of the Troupe for any reason, use this. Good luck.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks.” Guy saluted the Troupe. “As a Gourmet Hunter!” The four thieves nodded at him approvingly as he pushed the button to go down in the elevator, leaving the Naruto Cafe staff in the kitchen, sobbing in fear. For the young chef, there was no turning back. 

~~~

After what seemed like an eternal descent, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Guy nervously stepped out into a large, dimly-lit gymnasium, and was met with cold glares from the hundreds of other applicants. Being an angsty teenager, he returned the glare from under his hood.

“Excuse me, sir!” Guy looked down towards where the small voice was coming from to see a dwarf with green skin. He wore a pressed suit and only reached Guy’s waist in height. “Here is your number badge! Don’t lose it!” He handed the young chef a circular badge with the number ‘420’ inscribed on it. He took the badge and attached it to his jacket.

“Nice.” Guy nodded in satisfaction.

“I don’t recognize you, young boy.” Guy turned his head towards the cheerful new voice and saw a portly man about his height. His badge read ‘69’. He had brown hair, a bulbous nose, and an unsightly neckbeard, but his smile was rather disarming. “You must be new here.”

“And what if I am?” Guy jeered.

“Now, now, there’s no need to be so hostile,” said the man. “This is my twenty-ninth attempt at the exam. I can tell rookies from a glance. The name’s Tonpa.” He outstretched his arm in greeting.  


“Guy. Guy Fieri.” He reluctantly shook his hand. “Since you’ve failed so many times, do you know anything about the other applicants?”

“You bet! There are more than a few people here taking another crack at the exam! For example, there’s Basho, #17. Some sort of warrior poet from the east.” Tonpa pointed to a man with hairy arms and a mustache, who appeared to be deep in contemplation.

“And that’s #261, Stick Dinner.” Stick was tall and slender. He had a brown afro and wore a cheeky grin on his face.

“He looks like a tool,” remarked Guy.

“Just smile and laugh at his jokes,” whispered Tonpa. “You don’t wanna hurt his feelings. Then there’s Kuwabara, #112.” He pointed to a grumpy-looking teen with orange hair, looking to fight some of the other applicants. “He’s all bluster, I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“Are there any other rookies here?” Guy inquired.

“Sure there are. There’s #360, Milluki.” Tonpa pointed to a chubby preteen who stood in the corner, shoving potato chips into his mouth. “He looks like an ordinary tub of lard, but there’s something off about him. I’d stay away from him.”

“I just came out of a restaurant full of those people,” Guy snarked.

“Very true,” agreed Tonpa. “Now, the big guy over there is #77, Josuke. He’s a weird one.” Tonpa pointed to a man who stuck out like a sore thumb among the other applicants. He was taller than most of them, and had the greasy hairstyle of a delinquent. As if he didn't already stand out, he was striking flashy poses. 

“That’s a rookie? I don’t have a chance against him!”

“No, not really,” said Tonpa. “Just hope you don’t have to fight him. Then there’s #111, that guy in the stupid cape, Saitama.” He pointed to a bald man in a regular superhero costume. He looked lifeless with boredom. “I don’t know what his deal is.”

“These applicants definitely look tough,” said Guy anxiously.

“The Hunter Exam is never easy. I would know,” consoled Tonpa. “Would you like a juice to calm your nerves?” The man pulled an orange can out of his pocket and popped the tab, handing it to Guy. Without hesitating, he took a sip, and found he liked the taste.

“Good stuff, huh?” Tonpa grinned widely at him. “If you want any more, just--”

“What are you doing drinking that crap?!” A brash voice interrupted Tonpa. Guy looked over to see a girl about his age wearing a tank top. She had striking turquoise hair that was tied back. Her badge read '196'. “Do you have no sense of taste?”

“Taste? This is the most slamma jammin’ beverage I’ve ever put into my mouth!” Guy exclaimed enthusiastically before guzzling the rest of his drink. “Got any more?”  


“Uhh...on second thought, that’s enough.” Tonpa laughed nervously. “See ya later!” He ran to cower in another corner of the room. _Damn!_ He cursed to himself. _She almost blew my cover! She spat out my drink instantly. How did she know I laced the drink with laxatives?!_ Tonpa growled, then smiled deviously. _At least I was able to fool that other kid. That’s one down, the rest to go! Oh, Tonpa the Rookie Crusher, you are a GENIUS!_

“Who are you, anyway? And what the hell do you know about flavor?” Guy scoffed.

“I am Menchi,” she answered arrogantly. “Apprentice chef of Anthony Bourdain. And I suppose that you aren’t anyone important?”

“Only Guy Fieri,” he shrugged, but there was a hint of cockiness in the young chef’s voice. “I’m guessing you want to be a Gourmet Hunter as well?”

“There’s no question,” scoffed Menchi. “I will be a Gourmet Hunter. I clearly have a more refined palate than you do.”

“It’s not about refinement!” Guy argued. “It’s about being open-minded! Appreciating and experimenting with all sorts of new flavors!"

“You disgust me!” Menchi spat at his feet. “You’re going down, Guy Fieri!”

“Back at you!” Guy spat back. Their feud was interrupted by the sound of a bell. Through one of the side doors in the gym entered an older man with jet black hair, tanned skin and a tracksuit.

“Thank you for your patience,” he said. “I’m Tsezguerra, and I’ll be your examiner for the first phase. I hope you’ve been working out, because you maggots are about to undergo the most grueling exercise of your lives.”

“No! NO! I WANT OUT! I just wanted money to spend on my questionable hobbies, but this is going too far!” Milluki ran as fast as he could towards the exit, only to find it locked.

“Too late to leave now,” Tsezguerra gloated. “Line up behind those cones.” He indicated the small cones on the gym floor, lined up horizontally. Everyone did as they were obliged, and as he took his mark, Guy Fieri felt a growing sense of anticipation. Now, the true test of his skills would begin.


	16. Success x And x Failure

Guy felt confident as he took his place behind the cone in a runner’s stance. _This looks like a basic endurance test,_ he thought to himself. _Shalnark put me through all sorts of hell for this very moment! Plus, I even have Nen as my ace in the hole. This is gonna be a piece of cake._ He chuckled to himself, but still, he couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable dread in the pit of his stomach. About twenty meters away was another set of cones running parallel to the starting line. Then, Tsezguerra pulled out a boombox set it down in a corner of the gym before hitting the play button. A monotone voice sounded through the speakers.

 **“The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues.”** Almost as soon as the first words were spoken, the Hunter exam applicants erupted into a panic. Guy’s fears were confirmed. He had heard stories about the grueling pacer test from schoolchildren in Meteor City, going into vivid detail about vomit-stained gym floors, with sweat and tears pouring down their faces. He hoped those stories were exaggerated.

 **“The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start.”** The voice continued as Tsezguerra tried to calm down the applicants. **“The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal.”** A small beeping tone played. **“A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound.”** There was a light ringing noise. **“Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word ‘start’. On your mark, get ready, start.”**

A 70s style funk tune started playing, and the applicants began to jog. Even though the exercise was not very strenuous so far, the apprehensiveness on everyone’s faces was plain to see. Milluki was obviously in more pain than anyone, as he wasn’t very physically fit. He had barely reached the cone on the other end when the tone signaling the end of the first lap played. Everyone ran back the other way, completing another lap when they reached the end, in a maddeningly tedious cycle. Then, as soon as the seventh lap was finished, the tone signaling the beginning of the next stage sounded, and everyone picked up the pace ever so slightly. Milluki was becoming more winded as time progressed, missing his tenth lap.

“What’s the matter, fatty?” A significantly leaner applicant next to him taunted. “You out of breath already?”

“Yeah,” piped up another applicant who was adjacent to him. “The nearest McDonald’s was three blocks away. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t know who you’re mocking!” Milluki panted. “I can have you killed! Just wait until the next phase!” The applicants simply laughed and ran ahead of him. The cycle continued, but Milluki pressed on. Then, after fifteen grueling laps, the third stage began. Milluki’s head was spinning with exhaustion as sweat dripped on his brow. He could barely see the cones ahead of him due to the tears in his eyes. Then, as the twentieth lap finished, he collapsed at the cone.

“DAMMIT!” He yelled in agony.

“Yeah, that’s right, piggy! This isn’t your territory!” Ignoring the comment, Milluki got up and walked shamefully towards the sidelines. _There goes my chance to make mama proud,_ he lamented to himself. _That brat doesn’t deserve to be the heir! I don’t care how skilled he is, he’s not cut out for it!_ He clenched his fist. _No matter. I’ll find ANOTHER way to prove that I’M worthy of heading the Zoldyck family!_

By the start of the fourth stage, five other applicants had joined Milluki on the sidelines. A few of the competitors had broken a sweat, but Guy wasn’t one of them. He looked on determinedly as he breezed through the fourth and fifth stages. Josuke was effortlessly keeping up, and Saitama’s endurance was almost inhuman. Even Tonpa, portly as he was, was making progress. To Guy’s dismay, however, Menchi was also still in the running, even in high heels. She simply snorted derisively and looked on ahead, completing her fiftieth lap.

~~~

By the time Guy had completed 100 laps, he began to feel the first hints of exhaustion. Shalnark had prepared him well for this exact scenario, but not knowing when the phase was going to end made him feel mentally exhausted, which, in turn, took a physical toll on him. The dwindling number of applicants that were still running did not help in the matter. The young chef completed six more laps, reaching the end of the eleventh stage, and pressed on. Saitama simply looked unimpressed with everything, while Josuke began to complain.

“This sweat is messing up my hair!” He yelled indignantly. “You! Baldy!” He pointed at Saitama. “Why aren’t you sweating?! It’s not fair!” He simply shrugged, while Josuke grumbled. Meanwhile, Tonpa was keeping an eye on the rookies who had drank his juice. He grinned to himself as he noticed the rookies on the sidelines complaining about cramps. As the twelfth stage ended, he looked over at Guy, who was still in the running.

“Josuke and Saitama may have refused my juice, but I think I’ve scared a few more rookies away from the exam,” he chuckled to himself. “Any minute now, that Guy kid should be out of the running.”

“He’s still in the race? You’ve gotta be _shitting_ me!” To Tonpa’s disappointment, Stick Dinner was running alongside him, laughing at his own joke.

“Can it, string bean,” he growled through gritted teeth. “That’s supposed to be a secret.”

“I may not have fallen for your juice trick this time, but I’m still _pooped!_ ” Stick jokingly wiped his brow and continued laughing.

“Why couldn’t you just have stayed home this year like a good former rookie?!” Tonpa prayed that if any of the candidates he eliminated returned next year, they wouldn’t be as aggravating as Stick, who was closer to collapsing from laughter than exhaustion. As the thirteenth stage ended, Tonpa’s anticipation for Guy to drop out only grew.

~~~

Guy was impressed that he had completed 150 laps. The applicants were now breaking into a full sprint across the gymnasium with each lap. About eighty or so applicants had dropped out of the race, but he pressed on, even as each breath he took burned his throat. After the fifteenth stage ended, Menchi finally decided to acknowledge him as she sprinted alongside him.

“So...Guy, was it?” She began conceitedly. “You’ve made it this far, so I suppose I have a little more respect for you. So tell me, who trained you?"

“None of your business,” he muttered.

“I’ve already told you who trained me,” said Menchi matter-of-factly. “It’s only fair that you tell me who your teacher was.”

“Did I stutter? It’s none of your business!”

“Well alright,” she shrugged. “But if you’re not willing to divulge that kind of information, that tells me that you’re not very proud of teacher. And rightfully so, considering your unrefined tastes.”

“It’s Gordon Ramsay,” he admitted begrudgingly, “and you remind me a lot of him the way you talk about palates and perfection.” Menchi scoffed.

“There’s no need to insult me like that,” she said, offended. “Ramsay hasn’t shown his face on TV for ten years. It’s almost as if he disappeared off the face of the earth. No wonder you’re not proud of him. Anthony Bourdain is a world class Gourmet Hunter. I’m so lucky he noticed my cooking abilities.”

“Stop talking,” said Guy. “You know nothing about Gordon Ramsay.”

“Oh, so you DO care about him,” Menchi chuckled. “That’s sad.” As the sixteenth round ended, Guy let his anger get ahead of him, and he didn’t reach the cone by the time the tone played. He grumbled. _Damn her!_ He cursed to himself. _I can’t afford to mess up again. I can’t lose this opportunity!_

~~~

200 rounds had elapsed, and the number of applicants was still decreasing. Josuke was desperately trying to keep his hair nice and gelled, Stick Dinner was smiling through his pain, and Tonpa was getting angrier that Guy hadn’t dropped out.

“Why hasn’t he shit himself yet?!” He growled to himself. “What is he?!”

“Relax, Tonpa,” mocked Stick Dinner. “You can write all about it in your diarRHEA after this is over.” He burst into tears of laughter.

"Did you come back here just to get back at me for last year?!” Tonpa was exasperated as Stick nodded contentedly. His anger caused him to miss a lap, but he quickly got back on track. As the nineteenth stage ended, Menchi was beginning to get suspicious of Guy as well.

“Shouldn’t you be crapping yourself right now?” She asked him, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Guy panted. The young chef was more wary of her now than ever. He would not let her rile him up and miss his second lap.

“That juice you drank was a laxative,” she said simply. “You should be feeling the effects by now.” Guy gasped, and Menchi looked satisfied with the look of fear on his face. As if on cue, he felt a cramp in his stomach. “Have fun!” She laughed. Twenty stages had passed. There was no telling how many more than were. This lack of knowledge, combined with the cramps, took its toll on Guy. _I’ve eaten worse things,_ he encouraged himself, remembering the roasted rats he loved to eat before Ramsay took him in. Yes, _Ramsay._ He began to think of how he wanted to prove he was better than him. Yelling in agony while desperately trying to ignore the pain in his throat, stomach, and everywhere else, he sped back up, barely completing another lap. Even as he began to feel his intestines twisting and turning inside him, he pressed on. His hearing dulled, drowning out the pained sounds of the other applicants as well as the radio. He sprinted faster and faster, even as his legs began to feel like jelly. Then, as the twenty-first stage ended, and 247 rounds had elapsed, he collapsed at the cone. The sound of a buzzer was music to the young chef’s ears.

“The first phase of the 281st annual Hunter exam is complete,” said Tsezguerra. “144 applicants have failed, leaving 276 to move on to phase two. A brief rest is permitted. Congratulations, I guess." Guy sighed with relief and got up from his spot on the floor. Still feeling cramps, he gave a cheeky thumbs up to Tonpa, who scoffed and looked away, and a middle finger to Menchi, who was indifferent. The young chef was one step closer to his goal, and not even death, or gastrointestinal distress, could stop him.

~~~

“Ramsay, I’d like a word with you.” Gordon grumbled. Whenever his manager wanted to speak with him, it was usually about a complaint from a customer. Who the fuck cared what kind of language he used? He was keeping this place in business, what with all the dumb kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Begrudgingly, he entered the office and took a seat in front of his manager’s desk.

“Ramsay, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but...you’re fired.” Ramsay only sighed. He was expecting this sooner or later.

“And why is that, you jack-booted pig shit?” Gordon smiled to himself. It felt good to finally be able to insult his manager.

“It’s about your use of...lamb sauce,” he explained professionally. “This is Starbucks. People only care about being awake in the morning, they don’t care how their latte tastes.”

Well they damn well should!” Gordon protested. “These yuppies are drinking crap! And how can you complain about lamb sauce when you put fucking BLUE COCAINE in your unicorn frap?” The manager sighed.

“They’re called Pixie Stix, Ramsay,” he said.

“It’s still shit! I’m better off DEAD than working here. Good luck finding a kid who knows how to do their job!” He stormed out of the office, throwing his apron in the manager’s face and giving him the middle finger. “GET TO WORK, YOU LOUSY IMBECILES!” He yelled at the teenagers working behind the counter. They simply stared at him blankly as he stormed out of the restaurant. If Gordon Ramsay failed as a Starbucks barista, was there anywhere left for the former Food Network star to go?


	17. An x Unexpected x Opponent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally not inspired by the hell I went through recently.

As a reward to the 276 applicants who passed the first phase, Tsezguerra offered a bathroom break and an ice-cold bottle of water. As Guy sat on the toilet and disgustingly expelled what he had eaten earlier, he wondered what sort of horrors the second phase would entail. Would it be weightlifting? No, that would be too much physical strain to bear. Would it be some sort of puzzle? No, that might be a little predictable. As he stepped out of the noxious bathroom and opened the door for the next applicant, he went over to grab a bottle of water from the table, opening it and savoring the chill that went down his throat. Unfortunately, it came right back up, and Guy vomited the water on the polished gym floor. After all the torture his digestive system had just gone through, it would take awhile for his stomach to settle.

“Alright, maggots,” yelled Tsezguerra. “Passed applicants, proceed through this door.” He opened the double doors on the far side of the gym. “The rest of you disappointments will march right back the way you came. Hop to it! And don’t be so pathetic if you come back next year!” The applicants were then escorted through their respective doors. Stepping through, Guy entered what looked like a large classroom, with about fifty or so desks per row. _Shit! I’ve never been to school!_ The young chef’s thoughts were filled with terror as he took a seat in the back corner of the room. _I wasn’t prepared for THIS!_

“What’s the matter, Guy?” For apparently no other reason than to taunt him, Menchi had taken the desk next to Guy’s. “You didn’t strike me as the educated type, but surely a little pop quiz can’t be that bad.”

“I spent all my time learning to cook,” Guy responded. “I couldn’t be bothered to learn stuff that didn’t interest me.”

“A good Gourmet Hunter must know about the world they live in,” Menchi wagged her finger. “That way, they can be open to different cultures and trying new things. You’re sounding rather hypocritical right now.”

“I could say the same for you,” Guy sneered. “You said you hated trying new things.”

“When? I simply said my palate was more refined,” Menchi reminded him. “However, I won’t blame you for your black and white way of thinking. That’s your teacher’s fault, mostly.”

“I thought I told you to shut up about my teacher,” said Guy dangerously. Menchi smirked, shrugged and faced towards the front of the classroom. The whispered conversation in the classroom died down as a short, scholarly-looking examiner with glasses stepped into the room.

“H-hello,” he stuttered, “M-my name is Lin Koshi. I-I’ll be your examiner for the s-second phase.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Y-you will complete a written test for this phase.” The entire room gasped.

“Bullshit!” The applicant that Guy recognized as Kuwabara stood up in protest. “This isn’t worth it! I’m not gonna beat Urameshi by doing a written test!”

“If you leave now, I-I’ll be forced to disqualify you,” said Lin. The delinquent sighed and returned to his seat.

“N-now then,” Lin continued, “t-the test is as follows. You will answer t-these hundred questions as correctly and a-accurately as possible. T-the hundred applicants with the highest scores will p-proceed to the third phase.”

“A hundred?!” Kuwabara yelled, outraged. _No! Urameshi would pummel me if I backed out now! I have to prove to him that I’m better!_ He sighed and accepted his fate.

“I-if I may,” Lin piped up, “I will now hand out the tests.” He slowly traversed from desk to desk until all the applicants received their papers. “You have two hours. G-good luck.” 

~~~

Guy scanned the stack of paper that had been placed on his desk. Looking at the first page, he felt intimidated. The questions seemed to be related to basic facts: _What organelle is known as the powerhouse of the cell? What year was the first Hunter exam? What famous blacksmith was also a serial killer?_ To anyone who had attended school, this first page would be simple, but to Guy Fieri, whose brain was built for heating ovens and flipping patties, it seemed hopeless. Menchi had covered her paper to ensure that Guy couldn’t cheat off of her, as had the person in front of him. Desperately, the young chef flipped a few of the pages to see if there was anything he was capable of answering.

After carefully scanning the next few pages, he found no questions pertaining to cooking or even food. Turning a few more pages, he found personal and situational questions, typical of a job interview: _How would you deal with an angry client? Do you prefer old traditions or inventing your own methods? How far would you go to save a dying friend if you knew you could save them?_ He decided against responding, just in case the examiner didn’t like his response. He had only barely passed the preliminary exam because he didn’t give an answer to the old woman, so he decided it was the safest route.

Meanwhile, Kuwabara was busy holding back an oncoming panic attack as he looked through the test. _Dammit! I would've studied my ass off if I knew this was coming!_ He held his head in his hands, wiping sweat from his forehead. Then, he took a closer look at the first question and had a brief moment of clarity. _The powerhouse of the cell! I actually bothered to go to class during that lesson!_ He hastily wrote “mitochondria” on the paper. However, as soon as he looked at the other questions, his confidence disappeared. He flipped through the pages, stopping when he found the personal section. _How would I deal with an angry client...now THIS I can answer!_ He confidently wrote “show 'em what for” on his paper, answering similarly for most of the other questions.

~~~

While he was shamelessly trying to sneak a peek at Stick Dinner’s test, Tonpa had another scheme in mind. He tapped a rookie in front of him on the shoulder.

“It’s been 30 minutes. I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered any questions yet,” whispered Tonpa in mock concern. “Why is that?”

“I-I just wasn’t prepared for this,” stuttered the rookie. Tonpa clicked his tongue.

“Not good, not good at all.” He shook his head. “I’m assuming you have to get a certain score to pass, and the way you’re going about things, it doesn’t look good.”

“B-but what about the personality questions? I can’t get those wrong!”

“Examiners are still human,” explained Tonpa. “In other words, they have their biases. If they don’t like the way you answered those questions, they can drop you.”

“What?! That’s not fair!” Another rookie who was eavesdropping piped up. He angrily pointed to the examiner. “You can’t judge me based on what you think! I quit! This exam is bullshit!” A chorus of shouts and insults erupted among the applicants as about forty of them filed out the door. Lin simply watched as they exited. In the back row, Tonpa chuckled.

“Typical idiot rookies,” he mumbled to himself. _They don’t realize the true purpose of this exam. A veteran like myself has no trouble discerning that kind of information. But some of the rookies are still here…_ he glanced around the room _...whatever, they can wait until the next phase._

~~~

It was now an hour into the exam. Despite the uproar against the examiner, Guy remained in his seat. _All those applicants leaving was probably caused by Tonpa,_ he theorized. _I already know I can’t trust him. That means I have a chance! Now I have to figure out how to answer the trivia questions._ Suddenly, he remembered the phone Shalnark had given him. Making sure Menchi wasn’t looking, he stealthily pulled the phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and went into his contacts. He tapped Shalnark’s name, which took him to the messaging app.

G: **It’s Guy. In the second phase rn. Could you help me answer these questions for a written exam?**

He tapped his fingers on the desk while he waited for his reply. After a few minutes phone vibrated.

S: **Sure! Just send me a picture if you can**

Going to his camera app, he began taking pictures of the individual pages and sending them to Shalnark

S: **In order, the first 3 are mitochondria, 1713, and Benny Delon.**

He listed off the rest of the answers, using the Hunter website to find answers to some of the more esoteric questions.

G: **Thanks**

S: **No problem! Is that really the whole test?**

G: **There’s some personality questions as well, but I don’t know how to answer them**

The young chef waited for Shalnark’s reply for a few minutes.

S: **I can’t help you with abstract questions like that. Just do what feels comfortable.**

G: **Right, I’ll text you when this phase is over. Thanks for your help**

As Guy scanned the personality questions, he found himself wondering if what Tonpa had told the rookies was true. Would the examiner really fault him if he didn’t like his answer, even if it was honest? He knew very well how he dealt with angry clients. Gordon had taught him that the customer was always right, but Guy definitely didn’t agree. It was safe to assume the examiner would not like that answer. However, he would probably agree with the young chef’s eagerness to try new things. Guy didn’t even know how to answer the question about his hypothetical dying friend, though. He didn’t care much for philosophical questions.

“30 m-minutes remaining!” The examiner called out. Guy was now panicking again. Was it better to leave them blank, or to say “fuck it” and answer honestly? He rubbed his temples, desperately thinking of a strategy.

Meanwhile, Kuwabara continued to struggle with the trivia questions. _What do I do?! I can’t cheat! If Urameshi knows I cheated in order to have a chance against him, he’ll beat me to a pulp! WHAT DO I DO?!_ After a few seconds, he decided it was pointless to panic over something so trivial.

“I quit,” said Kuwabara reluctantly. “I may have lost, but I’m losing honorably.” He slammed his test down on Lin’s desk and marched out the door, followed closely by Saitama.

“Yeah, this is pointless,” he said in a deadpan voice. “I'm not Hunter material. Guess I’ll go hit the gym.” He followed Kuwabara, handing Lin the paper while looking bored as usual. Many of the other applicants who were having trouble with the test followed suit. Guy was tempted, but that would mean having to wait until next year. He had too much ambition and too little patience to wait that long. He tried to distract himself by looking at recipes online, but that only served to make him more stressed.

“15 minutes remaining!” The examiner shouted in his high-pitched voice. Guy’s anxiety had reached a boiling point. He began to hyperventilate, and his thoughts became blurred. Was he really going to let a written exam defeat him after he’d come so far? After running until he puked? After venturing into a cafe full of weeaboos? Even after having to kill someone? Yes. He had to kill to get this far. Guy took a deep breath in, and exhaled. _Fuck it._ He thought to himself. _I’m one of the Phantom Troupe. I don’t conform to society. If he doesn’t like my answers, that’s his own damn fault._

_How would you deal with an angry client?_

By saying they should shut up and enjoy what I prepared for them.

_Do you prefer old traditions or inventing your own methods?_

I prefer doing things my own way.

_How far would you go to save a dying friend?_ He hesitated before answering.

Death is natural. They had it coming.

~~~

“Time’s up! P-please place your tests on my desk in a pile!” As he followed the applicants who had stayed for the duration of the second phase, he hoped his answers didn’t sound too edgy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hi guys! I'd like to apologize for the long wait. A lot of personal bullshit happened. Namely, finals and job applications. Adulthood sucks. Anyway, I should hopefully get back to my regular writing schedule now, providing writer's block doesn't hit me, which it probably will. I at least have the next chapter planned out Hope you enjoyed this current chapter, and I look forward to writing more!
> 
> \- Joey


	18. New x Vs x Old

As Lin Koshi carefully examined each individual test, Guy, along with everyone else, could only wait with bated breath. He had said that those with the top one-hundred scores would pass, which meant that less than half of the applicants in the room would advance to the third phase. He knew how selective the Hunter Exam would be, but Guy agreed that the odds were unfair.

“So, Guy Fieri, how well do you think you did?” Of course, Menchi never missed a beat. It seemed she could instantly tell the moment her rival began to feel uneasy.

“Well enough to pass, I think,” he said in a tone indicating that he was in no mood to talk.

“I suppose I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” she chuckled. “This is only the second phase, after all.”

“Why do you insist on trying to piss me off every time you talk to me?”

“Because I already know you won’t be a concern in the final phase,” said Menchi arrogantly. “You said you only knew how to cook, didn’t you? You horizons aren’t broad enough, Fieri.”

“Well then,” Guy replied smugly, “It seems I forgot to mention my combat training.” Menchi burst out laughing.

“You’re not serious, are you?” She inquired derisively. “If I recall correctly, Ramsay only knows how to fight with words. Do you have another teacher you neglected to tell me about?”

“That’s none of your business,” Guy huffed. The young chef assumed she would only laugh harder if he said a street gang taught him how to fight.

“Prove it to me, then,” Menchi challenged him. “I’ve been trained in many forms of martial arts from around the globe, so it will only make a small difference if you actually know how to fight. I’ll even let you decide how we do it.”

“Arm wrestling. Right here, before he finishes looking over the tests,” said Guy as seriously as possible. Menchi snickered.

“If you say so.” Both placed their arms on the desk, clasping their hands together. Guy decided to tease her a little bit, letting her gain an advantage, so the match would be more satisfying for him. Just before his arm hit the table, he flared his Nen aura, which was invisible to the other applicants. With no effort, he slammed his opponent’s arm on the desk. The noise was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone else in the room. Guy chuckled at Menchi’s shocked expression.

“That’s payback for all your insults.” He then turned around to face the front of the room as if nothing had happened. Menchi looked at the back of her hand, which was now bruised.  


“It seems I underestimated you,” she acknowledged. He said nothing in return, but she couldn’t help but wonder where he got his monstrous strength from. Menchi clearly had to keep a closer eye on him than before.

“I-I have finished looking over your tests.” affimed Lin shakily. “I will now l-list off the names of those who will c-continue to the third phase.” 

~~~

The silence that followed Lin’s statement was so absolute that Guy could almost hear his own pounding heartbeat in his ears. The entire room gasped as Lin cleared his throat.

“A-all of you pass,” he said simply. “Everyone who s-stayed for the duration of the exam.” The applicants breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I thought you took too quickly grading those exams!” The one Guy recognized as Josuke spoke up. “What was the point of all that?”

“A v-valid question,” said the examiner. “The p-point was to t-test your readiness and willingness to face u-unexpected situations. That is why ch-cheating, no matter what m-method, was permitted. T-those who left were obviously not p-prepared. A-as for the questions, there were of little c-consequence. Or at least, I c-cannot reveal their purpose.” He cleared his throat. “Out of 276 applicants, 184 will m-move on to phase three. Congratulations.” The room erupted into enthusiastic applause. Guy and Menchi simply nodded at each other. Lin opened a door in the back of the classroom.

“T-this corridor will lead you outside. An airship will be w-waiting to take you to the n-next phase.” As Guy walked down the long hallway, he pulled out his phone and opened the messaging app.

G: **It’s me, I passed**

S: **Nice work! Was it easy?**

G: **They passed me for staying through the whole phase so yeah**

S: **Fair enough, but the next phase should be more challenging. In the meantime, the boss has an urgent message for you. Call him asap.**

G: **k**

~~~ 

Guy marvelled at the appearance of the airship. It was spacious and fitted with the finest luxuries, including a five-star restaurant. Guy ordered a fillet mignon, which made his stomach feel miraculously better, and unintentionally told the waiter it was “the bomb” when he came around to check on him. He brushed it off, ordering a rare Whale Island apple pie. The apples were incredibly sweet, and as he savored the taste, he almost forgot that Chrollo had a message for him. Moving himself to a more secluded table, he pulled out his phone and found ‘Boss’ in his contacts. Chrollo answered almost as soon as Guy clicked the call button.

“Guy Fieri,” the boss intoned calmly. “I have been expecting your call. How goes your exam?”

“Easy enough, so far,” replied Guy. “I’m heading to the third phase as we speak.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ve also heard you had to kill one of the navigators.”

“It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be,” recalled Guy.

“I am pleased,” said Chrollo. “In any event, I’m sure Shalnark informed you of my message?”

“He told me that it was urgent,” confirmed Guy.

“In truth, you might find it more interesting than urgent,” said the boss. “Rumors spread fast in Meteor City, and the latest is that Gordon Ramsay has left his post at Starbucks.” Guy was barely able to stop himself from choking on his apple pie.

“Did you hear how it happened?”

“I don’t know the details, unfortunately,” confessed Chrollo, “but I assume that his discriminating attitude wasn’t very befitting of a barista.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” chuckled Guy. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” said Chrollo. “In fact, I have an idea of how you could capitalize on this development.”

“Tell me more,” urged Guy with a devious smile.

“There is an increasing demand for the return of the Spider Shack,” Chrollo explained. “With Gordon virtually out of the picture, you could restart his business from scratch. If you’re successful, you might even be able to start a franchise. Your status as a Gourmet Hunter will increase your odds. I want you to imagine the opportunities, Guy Fieri.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Guy ambitiously. “I’ll give it some thought.”

“Good to hear,” said Chrollo. “Of course, you’ll still have your duties as a Food Network star, not to mention a member of the Troupe. I trust you can handle these responsibilities.”

“Of course,” Guy reassured.

“You have proven to be a valuable member of our Troupe,” Chrollo praised the young chef. “I wish you luck. I expect your call once you finish the exam.”

“Will do,” affirmed Guy. “I’ll see you when I get my Hunter’s license.” With that, he hung up and polished off the rest of his apple pie. Menchi, who sat at a nearby table, ignored him, pretending not to listen.

 _There's something he's not telling me. He's definitely more dangerous than his outside appearance lets on._ Menchi narrowed her eyes before continuing her dessert, grimacing at how there was nothing to balance out the sweetness.

~~~

“Last call!” The shout of the bartender was lost on the patrons of the dingy Meteor City tavern, most of whom were in a stupor. This was not the case for Gordon Ramsay, at least not yet. Ironically, he was less vulgar when he was drunk, but still didn’t waste a moment dumping his complaints on the bartender.

“And THEN,” Ramsay hiccuped, “he fired me. Can you beLIEVE the nerve a’ thish idjit? I ‘ad more eksh-peer-ee-ensh than ANY a’ those kidsh!”

“You know, we’re always looking for someone to clean the place,” offered the bartender. “Besides, you’ve got a pretty impressive tab.”

“Don’ be daft, you ugly muppet,” slurred Ramsay. “Another whiskey! Chop chop!” As soon he finished his sentence, he fell backwards off his bar stool, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. The bartender only shook his head.

“Should we take him back to his home?” One of the employees asked while cleaning up a puddle of vomit.

“Don’t bother,” said the bartender. “We don’t know where he lives. Besides, he might be homeless. In Meteor City, we never deny shelter to those who don’t have it.”

~~~

In his inebriated slumber, Gordon Ramsay was haunted by surprisingly lucid visions of his past, visions of better times before everything came crashing down on him. From a rich upbringing, to prestigious restaurant critic, to unemployed drunkard. What had caused him to fall so far? Did the rest of the world disagree with him that much? As he pondered this question, his mind drifted to a time when the Spider Shack suffered a sharp decline in business. People were constantly hungry for change, it seemed. With all the newer, trendier restaurants showing up, Gordon was sure his business would flop. Then, an anonymous letter was nailed to his door. It appeared to be typical fan mail at first glance, but it was something more. 

_Dear Gordon Ramsay,_

_Hi! I’m your biggest fan! I watch reruns of your show in my free time, and I really admire your leadership in the kitchen. Sorry to hear about your restaurant. I was hoping I could offer a way to help? Maybe give this recipe a try!_

_Beef Patty_  
_Iceberg Lettuce_  
_Titan Tomato_  
_Giant Onion_

_I hope you at least consider it. I’d hate for your restaurant to disappear for good._

_Best regards,_  
_A fan_

Gordon scoffed. He had been told all his life that his food was perfection, and now, here was someone with the audacity to suggest that only a new creation could save his restaurant. The nerve.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Ramsay.” Guy had appeared behind him, having read the letter. “You can just use that lamb sauce you love so much to make it your own.”

“Tch, I knew that, you ignorant banana.” Ramsay tried to hide the fact that he was impressed by Guy’s suggestion. “Now go open up shop, we’ve got customers to serve.” His restaurant was livelier than ever, all thanks to a nameless fan. For a few months after, a street gang who went by the name of the Phantom Troupe became the Spider Shack’s biggest supporters, bringing more trademarked foods into his restaurant. They were intimidating and demanding customers, but he owed most of his business’ success to them, which made it that much harder to watch as two of their members gunned down all his patrons on that fateful night. To add insult to injury, they had taken his apprentice under their wing. Gordon was about to curse the Troupe in his dream when he felt a startling splash of cold water on his face, returning him to the waking world.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” The bartender was standing over him. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the morning light in the tavern. “Do you have any place to be? I got a spare room upstairs.” Rubbing his head, Gordon picked himself up off the floor.

“That would be quite nice,” he admitted.

“Stay for as long as you need, Ramsay.” The bartender patted him on the back. Hope was not yet lost for the former chef, but he knew he didn’t want to stay jobless forever. However long it would take, he would wait for the next opportunity to redeem himself to his former glory, as well as discover if, or why, the Phantom Troupe had decided to screw him over.


	19. Battaglia x Tra x Rivali

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the late release. I did say something about writer's block as well as personal stuff, and unfortunately, it happened. I'm glad I was able to get it out before the end of the month, at least. Anyway, enjoy! 
> 
> \- Joey

Guy groggily sat up in one of the airship’s beds, glancing out the circular window. It was morning on the second day, and the airship was still in flight. Tonpa had mentioned something to him about being alert and careful not to fall asleep in case something came up, but he was too tired to care and didn’t trust him regardless. After checking to see if he received any messages overnight, the young chef’s stomach growled as if urging the young chef to leave his bed. He slipped his hoodie over his nightgown and opened the door, heading to the cafeteria, where he was disenchanted to find Menchi waiting in line. She also noticed his approach, but her face indicated less contempt than their previous encounters.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she smiled at him. Guy was understandably skeptical.

“Why are you suddenly being so friendly with me?” He grumbled, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Oh, relax,” she laughed. “Since you beat me at arm wrestling, I’ve decided you’ve earned my respect.”

“I’m _so_ happy you feel that way,” said Guy, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“You really should drop the hostilities, Guy Fieri,” Menchi scolded playfully. “We may have passed the first two phases, but it only gets more challenging from here on out. You would do well to make some friends.”

“Thanks, but I have friends already,” said Guy dismissively.

“Oh? Care to elaborate?” Her interest was piqued.

“No. Now stop holding up the line so I can get my breakfast.”

“Fine, fine,” said Menchi in a singsong voice. “I don’t see anything that looks remotely appealing anyway.” _You certainly are a tough nut to crack, Guy Fieri,_ Menchi thought to herself as she watched him scoop scrambled eggs, sausages and hashbrowns onto his plate. _But mark my words. I will find the secret to your strength._ She was distracted from her thoughts by the gurgling of her stomach. Reluctantly, she resigned herself and grabbed a sizable helping of bacon, eggs and sausages.

~~~

Menchi struggled to eat her breakfast. The eggs were runny and unseasoned, while the sausage links were so full of spices that it overwhelmed her taste buds. For a cafeteria that boasted five-star food, it was positively revolting. Seeing as this was the Hunter exam, a place where applicants gathered to join the elite ranks of humanity, she would have assumed that whoever the chef was put a little more care into their cooking. However, even worse than that was having to watch Guy tear ravenously into his breakfast like a wild animal. It was unsightly. Did he have any dignity or pride as a prospective gourmet Hunter? Even if he was better at combat, surely he couldn’t be better at cooking. Menchi decided she would put that to the test. Perhaps trying to be friendly with him wasn’t the right way to get information out of him.

“So, how’s your breakfast?” She approached her rival, dumping her own breakfast in the garbage.

“It’s gangster!” He remarked enthusiastically. “These sausages are the BOMB! And these ketchup packets? Absolutely KILLER!” Both he and Menchi were startled by his uncharacteristic outburst.

“Right,” Menchi said awkwardly. “Didn’t Tonpa’s juice give you an upset stomach?”

“Well, yeah, but it suddenly felt better after that apple pie I had. This food is straight up magic, I swear!”

“Magic?” Menchi cackled. “That’s childish, even by your standards. The eggs were basically liquefied. It offends me just to look at it.”

“Well MAYBE if you were more open-minded, you would believe me!” Guy retorted angrily.

“There’s no magic in cooking, Guy Fieri,” huffed Menchi. “You either know how to or you don’t, and whoever is in that kitchen CLEARLY--” she was cut off by a sharp pain in her hand. It gradually grew more intense, as if she was touching a hot iron. She winced and held her wrist.

“Uh, are you doing alright?” Guy asked, trying his best to sound concerned.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” She shouted accusingly at her rival. “THIS IS THE HAND I USED IN OUR MATCH!”

“Am I really that strong?” Guy pondered to himself. He decided he didn’t feel bad for her after all, and smirked to himself. “Serves you right.”

“HAVEN’T YOU GLOATED ENOUGH ALREADY?! SOMEBODY GET ME A GODDAMN ADVIL! COME ON, ANYBODY--” then, just as quickly as the pain had emerged, it vanished. Curious, she looked at the back of her hand, and found that the bruises she sustained from the match were gone. She was rendered nearly speechless.

“My wounds...they’ve healed! But how?”

“Ah, _signorina mia,_ it seems my cooking has taken effect!” A man with a cheerful Italian accent startled both teens. Looking behind him, Guy saw a tall man with blond hair and pale skin, wearing a chef’s outfit.

“Taken effect? What does that mean?” Menchi was too surprised to make a snide remark. The man simply laughed.

“ _Mi dispiace, signorina,_ ” said the older chef. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Breakfast is not my strength. But that aside, allow me to introduce myself. I am Antonio Trussardi, Double-Star Gourmet Hunter! But please, call me Tonio.” He extended his hand to shake both of theirs.

“THE Antonio Trussardi?!” Menchi was positively starstruck. “Owner of the Trattorio in Morioh?!”

“ _Si, lo stesso._ ” Tonio laughed proudly.

“Never heard of it,” Guy shrugged.

“Are you SERIOUS?!” Menchi slammed her hands on the table, offended. “Did you live in the rock quarries? He’s famous!”

“As a matter of fact, I did live in the rock quarries,” Guy confirmed smugly. “Apparently you live too far up your own ass!”

“ _Miei amici,_ there is no need to fight,” said Tonio. “Why not settle your differences in the kitchen? As mi papa always said, disputes are better solved with food than with fists.”

“That’s a great idea!” Menchi saw the perfect opportunity to test her skills. “How about it, Guy? Let's test our abilities as chefs, not fighters.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” With a determined grin, Guy got up from the table.

“ _Molto bene!_ ” Tonio clapped in satisfaction. “Now, if you would please follow me.” Guy and Menchi eagerly followed him into the kitchen.

~~~

“Now, _miei amici,_ ” Tonio began as he set the chefs up at their stations. “You are going to help me make lunch. Use the ingredients you like. I will judge you for your ability and preparation, but I will not criticize. There is always a chance to improve in the kitchen.” Guy nodded in approval. Menchi simply rolled her eyes at him.

“One last thing before we start.” The chef’s cheerful voice had grown serious. “Try not to make a mess, or you will be staying to clean. _Capisce_?” They nodded. “ _Molto bene! E ora, miei amici...ALLA CUCINA!_ ”

Guy’s initial reaction was panic, which was to be expected, since his last battle in the kitchen was with Feitan. For this reason, the young took some time to get used to the setting. Eventually, he realized that if there were any special rules, like time limits or sabotage, Tonio would have told them from the start. Keeping this in mind, he went to the cabinet from where Menchi was already gathering her ingredients.  


“What are you making?” The young chef decided to pick his rival’s brain a bit.

“Chicken parmigiana, pasta puttanesca, and biancomangiare pudding,” said Menchi conceitedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“That’s why I’m gonna keep it simple,” Guy retorted. “Chicken alfredo pizza.”

“ _Mamma mia,_ how original,” mocked Menchi. “You do know you’re gonna have to make the dough from scratch, right?”

“People love pizza,” said Guy, still confident in his abilities. Guy grabbed a large chunk of dough from its container, put flour on it, and began to vigorously knead it with his hands. The dough was surprisingly tough, so he flared his Nen to give him extra strength. After thoroughly kneading it, he grabbed a rolling pin and began to flatten it.

Meanwhile, Menchi was preparing all three of her courses at once. She had placed the chicken and pasta in separate pots to boil. She began mincing the almonds for her pudding with a knife. Tonio simply watched them with great interest. _Such potential these two have!_ Tonio pondered. _Yet they operate so differently. Guy Fieri: simple yet resourceful. Menchi: ambitious yet methodical. They have the makings of greater Hunters than even myself! But still, they can’t have my Nen ability._

~~~

Guy Fieri had spread as much chopped chicken and alfredo sauce as possible on the now-circular dough, and placed it in the oven that dominated the center of the kitchen.

“Heh, this is much easier than my battle with Feitan,” the young chef chuckled quietly to himself.

“Was that all you planned to do, Signor Fieri?” Tonio inquired. “Menchi is putting a lot of care into her dishes.” She was putting seasoning and sauce on her chicken and pasta, and had just put her pudding in the fridge to cool.

“A good dish takes time,” chastised Menchi. “That’s why shows like Iron Chef and Chopped are meaningless.”

“Well, since she’s taking her sweet time,” said Guy smugly, “I think I’ll make an antipasto.”

“ _Magnifico,_ Signor Fieri!” Tonio praised him. “That is what I like to hear!” The young chef took tomatoes and mozzarella from the freezer. In a rather cheeky gesture, he decided to upset the arrangement of almonds on Menchi’s pudding. They had been neatly placed on top, but were now scattered all over the plate. Luckily, Menchi was still very much absorbed in preparing her other dishes.

“Careful not to burn your pizza,” Menchi taunted as he walked past.

“How do you have room to taste your dishes when you’re already so full of yourself,” Guy taunted back.

“Not bad, but actually be a good chef and focus on your dish,” jeered Menchi. When Guy returned to his station, he set to work, rapidly chopping the tomatoes and arranging them in a circle on a small plate, putting the mozzarella slices in between each tomato. For a final touch, he sprinkled some basil on the salad. Just as he was about to present it to Tonio, however, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, as if someone had stabbed him with a hot knife. The pain caused him to drop his antipasto. The chef’s normally jolly expression turned sour when he saw the mess he created.

“You’re cleaning that up later!” Tonio seemingly ignored Guy’s pain as he writhed around on the floor. Then, to the teen’s horror, his own intestines came bursting out of his torso, and began squirming. Even Menchi stopped what she was doing to tend to Guy.

“What the fuck, Tonio?!” She screamed, outraged. “Why aren’t you helping?!”

“ _Calmati, signorina,_ ” said the chef simply. “It will be over soon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Then, as quickly as it came, the pain in Guy’s stomach vanished, and his intestines rearranged themselves.

“The pain...it’s gone! I was just well enough to eat last night, but now I feel totally fine!” Guy laughed joyfully. “I told you this cooking was magic.”

“I have the power to heal sickness and injury with my food, but it is not magic,” Tonio corrected him. Then, his expression became angry. “Now clean up _questa merda_ before lunch starts!” 

~~~

“Lunch was a success!” Tonio announced proudly after everyone had been served. “ _Grazie per l’aiuto._ And now, judgement time.” The two younger chefs waited anxiously for what he would say next.

“Guy Fieri,” he began, “your style is simple yet resourceful. You knew what you were doing, even if the result came out a bit sloppy. However, your dough had an unusual taste. Not bad. You might have powers similar to my own.”

“Powers?” Menchi raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“None of your business!” Guy silenced her.

“You will learn in due time,” said Tonio. “Now, Menchi, you have less resources at your disposal, but you have more natural talent. And your dishes were impeccably cooked and prepared! _Bellissimo!_ ” He kissed the tips of his fingers.

“Hm, looks like your ‘powers’ are worthless after all,” sneered Menchi. Guy huffed.

“Now, Signor Fieri, don’t let this discourage you,” Tonio consoled. “You can hone your powers and become _magnifico._ I suggest you figure out what your ‘type’ is before doing anything as a Gourmet Hunter.”

“I’m sure I can learn after the exam is done,” confirmed Guy.

“Molto bene,” said Tonio, grinning broadly. “You both have promising futures ahead of you. I look forward to bearing witness. _Arrivederci, miei amici!_ ” They both nodded in farewell, leaving the kitchen while staring each other down.

~~~

“Feitan. Anything to report?” Chrollo had received a phone call from the Troupe members who escorted Guy to the exam. They had yet to return to Meteor City.

“We arrived in Joumerra by airship,” explained Feitan, lounging in a hotel room, “but this place is crawling with Mafia scum. There are posters with Pakunoda, Shalnark, and Machi’s faces all over town, and there is a citywide blockade. We managed to kill about three hundred, but were forced to fall back when they sent reinforcements.”

“I see,” observed Chrollo. “That is a problem that can only be solved violently.”

“You want us to get rid of the Mafia?” Feitan asked as excitedly as he could manage.

“Precisely,” confirmed Chrollo. “Their base of operations must be somewhere within the city, according to their numbers. I want you to find it. But wait until all nine of us are present before attacking.”

“That's just what I was thinking,” said Feitan. “I will call you if anything else happens.” With that, he hung up.

“Did I hear correctly, boss?” Nobunaga grinned. “We’re going to take out the Mafia?”

“Yes,” said Chrollo. “We will eliminate their presence. Completely.” Uvogin roared with delight.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I joined! I’LL SLAUGHTER THEM ALL, **I SWEAR IT!** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not speak Italian, but I'm sure that you guys can get most of it from context. Thanks for reading!


	20. Exercise x In x Trust

After three full days in flight, the airship finally reached its destination. Guy disembarked to find that the ship had landed on what looked to be a remote tropical island. An unspoiled, blue-green sea that surrounded the island on all sides, and the sand on the beach was so white and reflective that it almost blinded the young chef when he looked at it. Tucked away from the shoreline was a foreboding wall of palm trees, leading into a lush forest.

“Great, looks like we’re finally gonna get some real hunting done. Hopefully not for dolphins,” remarked Josuke, his pompadour making him stick out like a sore thumb. Glancing to the side slightly, he noticed Guy standing next to him. “Hey, I saw you working with Tonio in the kitchen the other day. You made that pizza?”

“Me?” Guy pointed to himself. “Yeah, that was me. What about it?”

“That dough was even better than Tonio’s!” Josuke praised. “Plus it doesn’t make me itch, or my internal organs come out of me. Think you could convince him to have you help out in the kitchen again?” Guy accepted the praise gladly.

“Well, maybe, after we finish this phase--”

“Okay,” Menchi interrupted while disembarking, “but what did you think of my chicken parm?”

“Eh, I’ll take pizza anyday,” Josuke shrugged.

“Well, _obviously_ you didn’t try it,” she pouted. “Otherwise your opinion would have been different.” Josuke ignored her. Her rival sighed.

“I thought we settled this already. People like pizza.”

“We settled nothing, Fieri!” Menchi angrily poked Guy in the chest. “According to Tonio, we’re even, but we just happen to do things differently. I won’t quit until I prove that my method is superior.”

“Hm, fine by me,” Guy retorted. The other applicants preoccupied themselves with something else, obviously used to the duo’s bickering. Then, their attention was drawn towards what looked like a young girl with blond hair, pigtails, and a pink dress as she emerged from the forest.

“Help meeeeeee!” She squealed and ran towards the group of applicants. “My family and I got shipwrecked and...I think I lost them!” She began blubbering in a childlike manner. The applicants looked on in confusion.

“Calm down. I can get you help.” One of the applicants, a tall man with a square jaw, approached the girl.

“R-really? Oh thank you!” The girl sniffled, smiling and blushing slightly. “But w-who are you, handsome stranger?”

“I’m Neal, of the Speedwagon Foundation,” he proclaimed, clearly taking the compliment. “Our foundation is very influential worldwide.” He grinned broadly at the girl. “I promise you, help will arrive faster than--”

“Wait a minute,” Menchi interrupted. “I don’t see any shipwreck.” The other applicants realized this as well, and whispered among themselves. The girl’s smile dropped instantly. Maybe these applicants weren’t as hopeless as she expected.

“Yeah,” added Josuke. “Plus, if you were really lost here, you’d look a lot dirtier.” He approached her, posing dramatically while pointing an accusing finger at her. “I’ve seen lots of strange things back home. Just what kind of monster are you?” The girl’s expression turned to one of rage, and she sent Josuke flying with a single punch.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MONSTER, YOU GREASE MONKEY?!” Josuke’s expression turned as well. As he wiped his bloody nose, the other applicants gave him a wide berth.

“You insulted...my hair…” His voiced had dropped to a dangerous whisper, and his breathing became heavy. “I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE! I’LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!” Josuke charged at her, but she was unfazed, not moving an inch from her spot. As soon as he came within reach, the girl, who was half his height, effortlessly tackled him the ground, giving him a disgusting mouthful of sand.

“Hm, it seems I found your weak spot,” she mused, “but you still have keen observation skills, and you seem stronger than the others. Well done.” She helped Josuke up and ushered him to join the other applicants once more, although he was clearly still seething.

“It would seem that most of you are pretty smart as well.” She turned a sideways glance to Neal, who sighed, disappointed. “When you become a Hunter, you’ll quickly learn that appearances can be deceiving.”

“No shit,” muttered Josuke, still spitting sand out of his mouth. “Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Biscuit Krueger, the premiere Treasure Hunter in the world!” She exclaimed proudly. “But please, call me Bisky. I’ll be your examiner for the third phase.”

“Premiere Treasure Hunter?” Stick Dinner laughed. “You must be an old hag!”

“Don’t try my patience, string bean.” Bisky clenched her fist.

“Actually, the name is Stick Dinner.” His raucous laughter was interrupted by a kick to the groin.

“It seems I was only half-right when I said you guys were smart.” Bisky cleared her throat as Stick Dinner lay on the beach, groaning in agony. “Anyway, that was an exercise in trust. And trust is also an important part of this phase.”

“What do you mean?” Tonpa asked nervously, clearly indicating he wasn’t trustworthy and surprising nobody.

“You will complete this phase in pairs,” Bisky explained. Uneasy whispers circled among the applicants. “This is Dhaeblo Island, once the home of the Chikechi people. No one knows when or how they disappeared, but they left a lot of treasure behind. You and your partner will spend the next three days finding at least six significant pieces of treasure, and bring it back to the exam site. Alive.” After a short pause, she added, “I’ll even let you choose your partner!”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘alive’?” Guy asked, visibly worried.

“The wildlife here is not very friendly,” warned Bisky. “Take that as you will.”

“You can’t leave us to die out there! It’s unethical!” One of the applicants, whose voice cracked as he spoke, piped up.

“You’re taking this exam AT YOUR OWN RISK!” Bisky yelled, exasperated. “It was in bold lettering on our registration page!”

“Well, uh…I didn’t know what I was getting into.” He nervously tapped his fingers.

“Then leave.” She angrily pointed in the direction of the airship, and the applicant obliged, hanging his head while succumbing to the scattered laughter and ridicule.

“Anyone else? Last chance.” There was no response. “Good. Now, one more thing: both of you must come back alive. Coming back alone means disqualification.” There were audible gasps from the applicants. “If you lose your partner, you must find another pair willing to cooperate with you. You can’t have any more than three to a group. Is that understood?” Everyone nodded affirmatively.

“Excellent! You have three days. Good luck.” After her parting statement, Guy and Menchi glanced at each other.

“Since we know each other pretty well, I think it would be best if--”

“No,” Guy was quick to dismiss her, having been suspicious of her nosey behavior lately. He looked around for someone else to pair up with, but was out of luck.

“Very well,” Menchi shrugged. “You can be with Tonpa for all I care.”

“Partners, then.” As soon as Menchi finished her sentence, Guy extended his arm for a handshake, which she accepted. Without another word to each other, they followed the others into the undergrowth.

~~~

It had been about a half an hour since Guy and Menchi began their trek through the jungle. The biggest challenge they had encountered so far was a few thorny brambles, lying in wait to trip unsuspecting passersby. To Guy’s surprise, Menchi seemed to have given up on her endless questioning. Was she waiting for him to instigate her? Their constant bickering was irritating, but Menchi’s silence was boring. After some contemplation, he decided he preferred the annoyance.

“So, Menchi,” he began, “have you decided to quit badgering me already?”

“Hmph. I don’t see the point in it anymore,” she retorted. “I just wanted to know more about my rival, especially if we need to set aside our differences and work together. I don’t _always_ feel the need to flaunt my own skills, you know.”

“That's hard to believe. You must have _some_ ulterior motive. Besides, you would have just made fun of me anyway.” Menchi turned to face him.

“There’s no guarantee I would have done that.” For the first time, she sounded genuinely hurt.

"Uh, yeah. There is,” was Guy’s skeptical response.

“If you trust me so little, then why did you decide to pair up with me?! Riddle me that, Fieri!”

“Because the only alternative was Tonpa," he said nonchalantly.

“Oh, GREAT! At least I’m not as bad as the guy who spiked your drink with laxatives!” Menchi’s face became red with anger. “If you really hold me in such low regard, I think we should go our separate ways. This was a mistake.”

“We agree on that, at least.” With that, both teens stormed off, Menchi going forward and Guy taking a side path deeper into the forest. As he tripped over more brambles, he carefully peeked around for any hidden treasure, cursing himself for thinking that pairing up with Menchi was a good decision in the first place. Then, suddenly, his indignant pace was halted by an invisible force.

“What the--? Why can’t I move?!” As he studied the barrier in front of him, he found it was sticky. _Spider silk,_ he confirmed, before trying to break through it to no avail. _Dammit! Why is this web so strong?!_ As a small amount of sunlight filtered through the canopy, it reflected off the silk. The web was twice as tall as Guy and extended from one tree trunk to another about ten feet away. It was far too big for a normal spider. He looked up towards a hideous chittering sound, and found the eight-legged monster in question looking down at him hungrily with its black eyes. It hissed at him, rearing its enormous fangs that dripped with venom.

As it came toward him, Guy’s first instinct was to try to wriggle his way free, which seemed to only entice the spider more as it crawled down the web towards him. The arachnid reared its fangs once more as he struggled, but instead of immediately injecting him with its venom, it wrapped him a thick bundle of silk before retreating into the treetops, presumably saving him for later. The young chef counted himself lucky, but he was now even more trapped than before. He screamed, pleading for someone to happen by and rescue him. Unlike with the Kiriko, there was no fighting back, but he refused to go out like this. Then, he heard rapid footsteps approaching, and the swing of a sword that cut him loose from the web.

“You moron. Watch where you’re going next time.” As he lay on the ground in shock, Guy thought he’d never be happy to see that turquoise hair or that tank top.

“Menchi? When did you get that--” he was interrupted by an angry hiss. The spider charged towards the pair in the hopes of retrieving its prey. Menchi sliced its thorax, and as it screeched in pain, she cut through its thorax and severed its head, which Guy crushed under his heel. The two looked at each other in shock and relief.

“Hey,” Guy began, “I’m...sorry for what I said back there.”

“Water under the bridge.” Menchi smiled at him, and this time, it wasn’t meant to mock him. She removed her sword from the spider’s corpse. As Guy went to pick up his phone that had fallen from his pocket, he saw what looked like a small stone, but it was oddly-shaped and felt heavier than its size indicated. Upon closer inspection, he found that had what looked to be a face carved on the front.

“It looks like a moai head,” observed Menchi. “I think this might be treasure! Not bad.” She smirked.

“Yup. Treasure _and_ food,” said Guy, pointing to the spider’s corpse.

“You’re joking, right?” Menchi chuckled.

“I’ve eaten worse. Besides, it’s for survival, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Menchi with a grimace on her face. “I found a clearing over that way. Let’s set up camp there.” Guy, with giant spider in tow, nodded and followed. As he entered the clearing, the young chef checked his phone, and was disappointed to find he had no reception. There was no way he could contact the Troupe here, but he was glad that he had someone else watching his back for the time being.


	21. A x Forced x Partnership

The full moon shone brightly overhead, bathing the sand in silver as a warm breeze wafted through the palm trees. Because of the lack of light pollution, the stars and constellations were clearly visible, and the steady ebb and flow of the tides sounded in the distance. On this peaceful night, Guy and Menchi set up camp in the clearing and searched for anything flammable, including sticks, dried leaves, bits of tree bark, or fungi.

“I think this should be enough fuel!” Guy had arranged some sticks in a teepee-like fashion, putting the tinder in the very center. Menchi examined the campsite closely.

“Not bad,” she nodded. “But how are we gonna light it?” Guy snapped his fingers.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Back when I was a kid, I would always just find old matchboxes in the trash and use those.”

“Doesn’t sound like you had much of a childhood,” remarked Menchi, trying not to sound condescending. After a brief pause, she added, “You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t want to, but I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you can use it against me.” The young chef casually waved his hand. “I’ll tell you after we get this fire going.”

“Well then, you’re in luck.” Menchi pulled a matchbox out of her pack. She pulled out a match and struck it against one side of the box, igniting a small flame. As she dropped it into the tinder, a larger flame roared into existence.

“I came prepared,” she smirked. “I have something in this pack for every conceivable situation that could happen in this exam. That’s how I was able to save your ass from that spider.” She patted the sword in her belt. “Anthony Bourdain taught me everything I ever needed to know.”

“Sit down and quit bragging,” Guy teased. “It’s dinnertime.”

“You’re right,” she nodded, chuckling to herself. “I suppose it’s your time to brag anyway.” 

~~~

“Spider Shack, a city of outcasts, a street gang, and Gordon Ramsay working at Starbucks.” After Guy finished his story, Menchi was still mulling over the details. “No wonder you were so hesitant to tell me.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me!” _I haven’t even told you about what I had to do to get to the exam site,_ he added to himself.

“I’m not, I swear,” Menchi reassured him. “After some thought, I understand why you’d want to make a name for yourself. And I respect you for wanting to aim higher.”

“I’m...glad you do,” said Guy, casually tearing off one of the legs from the giant spider’s corpse and roasting it over the fire. “But what about you? You’ve never told me anything about before you met that Bourdain dude.”

“Hmm, I don’t suppose I have,” mused Menchi, “but that’s because there’s really not much to tell. I didn’t grow up in poverty like you did and I certainly wasn’t rich. I was just...regular.”

“You sound unhappy about that,” noted Guy.

“I just didn’t realize what I was missing at the time,” she corrected him. “My parents owned a little bakery in a town on the Yorbian continent. I went to school like any other kid and got decent grades. Then, one day, Anthony Bourdain stopped by for an episode of his _Parts Unknown_ series.”

“Oh yeah, that show,” recalled Guy. “Doesn’t he still wear earrings at 50? What a douche.”

“He’s not a douche! He’s just...eccentric.” Menchi faltered. “Okay, he’s a _bit_ of a douche. But point is, he was impressed with my baking skills, but he said that a talented girl like me needed to expand my horizons. So then, as I entered high school, he offered to take me on a trip around the world for a few months. I was growing bored with my surroundings, so I said yes.” She took a bite out of her spider leg, which was crunchy and slightly sour. She grimaced and started pulling various spices out of her pack, sprinkling them on the leg.

“So you just...left?”

“My parents supported me, of course. Even more so when I came back. I collected a few ingredients overseas, so I began giving our pastries and cakes an exotic touch. I experimented until I found exactly which ones go together. Our bakery saw more business than ever, and everyone admired my meticulousness and refined taste. That was when I decided to follow Bourdain’s footsteps and become a Gourmet Hunter.” There was a pause, and Guy nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he admitted. “But...was that really the only reason you were asking me all those questions?”

“I did it out of newfound respect, so yes,” she confessed. Her voice took on a teasing tone when she added, “Also, I wanted to figure out a way to possibly beat you.”

“Fat chance,” Guy laughed before finishing off his spider leg. Suddenly, feral roaring and distant screams interrupted their meal.

“What the hell is happening?” Guy whispered.

“That sounded like it came from the forest,” she whispered back. “There must be nocturnal predators out there.”

“Then what are we doing out in the open like this?!”

“We’re better off in this clearing, where we can see everything around us,” Menchi reassured him. “If something comes this way, we’ll see it.”

“Like that thing?!” Out of the pitch darkness came what appeared to be a snake’s head. It thrust its forked tongue out of its mouth, scanning for signs of prey.

“It must see our campfire,” Guy pointed out. “What do we do?”

“Just don’t move,” said Menchi. “It might not sense us.” The creature then came in full view of the fire. The snake was gargantuan, at least fifty feet long, and when it appeared to look at Guy with its menacing golden eyes, he felt his bowels slowly loosening once more. Then, it stopped, almost appearing distressed. It heaved its body a few times. After a while, it vomited, expelling a repugnant mass of saliva, as well several people, five by Menchi’s count. None of them were dead, and as soon as they regained their senses, they ran frantically in all directions. The snake didn’t seem to want to give chase, instead hissing and slithering off in the other direction.

“Wait! Let me come!” A familiar voice cried out.

“Fuck off! Find another group!” The others separated into pairs and ran off into the darkness. The one who spoke first stayed behind, gasping when he noticed the campsite. Guy cringed as he recognized the portly figure with brown hair. _Tonpa._

~~~

“Fancy meeting you two here,” he greeted them in a jolly voice.

“You should have died in that monster’s stomach, Tonpa.” The hatred in Guy’s voice was nearly palpable. Menchi was shocked by his outburst.

“Oh, believe me, I thought I was done for,” said Tonpa, maintaining his irritating cheerfulness. “It seems these babies saved my life.” He pulled the abhorrent laxative juices from his pack. This only served to fuel the young chef’s rage. He flared his Nen aura and charged in Tonpa’s direction, punching him in his bulbous nose. Tonpa yelped in pain, much to Guy’s satisfaction. As Guy hit him again, Tonpa raised his hands in surrender.

“W-wait!”

“What do you want? Spill it before I wring your neck.” Guy leered intimidatingly at him.

“Let me join you.” Guy did as promised and began choking him.

“Why should I even _consider_ that?”

“In...my pack,” Tonpa strained.

“What? You’ll have to speak up.” As Guy’s grip tightened, Tonpa's face began to change color.

“Guy! Let him go! He could have something useful!” Menchi shouted desperately. When Guy refused, she added, “if you don't let him go, I’ll leave you to find another group.” She was bluffing, but knew Guy might not cooperate with another group unless he knew them well. Thankfully, her bluff worked.

“Fine,” shouted Guy, “but if he tries anything funny, I’ll break his legs.” Still gasping for air, Tonpa pulled a small, golden vase and a silver medallion from his pack.

“So you have treasures,” said Guy nonchalantly. “I could kill you for them.”

“But I know where you could find more!” Tonpa pleaded. Guy watched warily as the Rookie Crusher rose to his feet. “I know you don’t trust me, but would you rather waste your time digging through the sand for the possibility of finding treasure?”

“You don’t have the skills to find treasure like that,” Menchi pointed out. “Where did you really get it?”

“I guess I can’t beat around the bush.” Tonpa shrugged. “I stole them off some rookies. But I found something that looks like an entrance underground. There must be plenty of treasure there. So...please?” He got back down on his knees.

“Let Menchi and I talk this over.” After the two chefs briefly consulted with each other, they nodded.

“On two conditions,” said Menchi. “You give your treasure to us, and always walk in front. We’ll watch for suspicious behavior. Guy and I will sleep in shifts.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different.” There was a hint of frustration behind his cheerful tone as he surrendered the treasures to them. “We set off in the morning.” 

~~~

“Here. This is the place.” It was high noon when the trio finally arrived at a small village, encountering no other applicants along the way. The wooden huts still stood, but were abandoned. Beyond the huts was a rock face, into which an ominous stone entryway was carved. Several tall torches made from bamboo lined the passage.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” said Menchi.

“Why would I?” Tonpa protested. “I already know I’m no threat to you.”

“Fine then,” said Guy. “You lead. Check for any traps.” Shaking with each step, Tonpa led them through the dark passage. As expected, he stepped on a loose stone, and out of one of the walls came an arrow that was aimed for his heart. He dodged to the left, avoiding a fatal blow, but at the cost of his arm.

“Dammit,” muttered Guy under his breath before following. As soon as all three were inside, the door mysteriously closed behind them, and the room became pitch black.

“TONPA!” Guy screamed at the top of his lungs. “You did that on purpose, you bastard!”

I’ve never been in here!” Tonpa pleaded. “I swear, I didn’t trigger anything! Besides, if I meant to trick you, I wouldn’t have trapped myself in here as well!” Before Guy could find another reason to accuse him, a strong, hateful Nen aura assaulted his senses. However, it didn’t seem to come from a living thing, but from the door that just closed behind them.

 ** _“BY THE LADY’S DECREE, YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE!”_** A deep, authoritative voice echoed through the chamber. **_“THOUGH I AM NO LONGER AMONG THE LIVING, I CAN STILL ENSURE THAT THIS ISLAND IS UNSPOILED BY OUTSIDERS!”_** The trio was rendered speechless by the supernatural occurrence.

“What the hell was that?!” Tonpa whimpered.

“Don’t know,” replied Menchi. “But first, we need light.” Menchi pulled a lantern out of her pack and powered it on, dispelling the darkness in the chamber and revealing three corridors, one straight ahead and two to the sides.

“Straight is not a good option,” said Menchi. “That seems to be where most of the traps are concentrated.”

“I say we go left. The way we came from," urged Guy. "There could be an exit there.”

“Most people who are lost go left, but whoever built this place had to take that into account,” reasoned Menchi. “I say we go right.”

“Are you serious?!”

“I’m with the girl,” concurred Tonpa.

“Nobody asked, Tonpa!” Both chefs yelled at him in unison before recollecting themselves.

“Look, arguing is gonna get us nowhere,” said Menchi.

“You’re right. How about a coin toss?” Guy suggested.

“I don’t see why not,” nodded Menchi after some consideration. “I call heads.” Guy pulled a loose Jenny from his pocket and tossed it in the air, catching it as it descended and slapping it on his wrist.

“It’s tails.” he smirked. “Left it is, then.” Menchi sighed before filing behind Tonpa. Her lantern light revealed that both sides of the corridor were littered with skeletal remains.

“What _is_ this place?!” Tonpa’s voice trembled.

“You’ll join them if you don’t quit crying, old man,” was Guy’s angry response. They turned a corner, revealing another long corridor with half-eaten corpses. At the end of it was a doorway, seemingly leading to another large chamber.

“We haven’t encountered any traps,” said Guy, “so why all these corpses?”

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” After another minute of walking, they arrived at the end of the corridor. As Menchi peered into the chamber with her lantern, she gasped.

“What? What do you see? Tell me!” Guy glanced in the same direction and gasped as well. The floor was littered with a pile of treasure, but atop the pile was a colossal reptilian monster, seemingly in a deep slumber. Its scales were a striking shade of aquamarine, and its head was decorated with curved horns. Folded along its back was a set of wings. There was no mistaking what this creature was. Even Guy had heard the stories back home. He just didn’t imagine they were real.

“Is that...a fucking DRAGON?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> ...Because everything's better with dragons.
> 
> I don't know for sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter (because hey, I have a small amount of a life), but I'll try not to take three weeks this time. Thanks for your continued reading!
> 
> \- Joey


	22. A x Coward's x Luck

“Keep your voice down, idiot!” Menchi quietly reprimanded Guy for his outburst. “Do you want the creature to wake up?!”

“This is fucking rad!” Guy still couldn’t contain his awe, even as the dragon stirred in its slumber. “But of course I don’t want it to wake up.”

“What do we do?!” Tonpa whispered fearfully.

“I say we take the right passage, like I originally suggested.” Menchi snorted. “A coin toss. What nonsense.”

“At least now we know what we’re dealing with here,” said Guy defensively. “We can be prepared if it attacks us.”

“Prepared how?! This isn’t some stupid RPG!” Menchi protested.

“Well, they’d have to have weapons somewhere on this island,” Guy concluded. “Plus, they could double as treasure.”

“But...it’s a dragon!”

“You’re the one who wanted to take the other path in the first place.”

“True enough,” reasoned Menchi. “Lead the way, Tonpa.”

“B-but you have the lan--”

“Remember our agreement, old fart,” Guy hissed. “Now move!”

~~~

“Some team players you are,” Tonpa groaned as he trudged forward into the darkness.

“Shut it,” snapped Guy. “You agreed to these conditions, so stop complaining.”

“I know, but…” he hesitated “...is it really a good idea to put the weakest one up front?”

“At least you admit you’re the weakest.” As he said that, the young chef realized something about the old man. “Now I see why you spiked my drink. You’re afraid of me,” he jeered.  


“Hah! Afraid? Of some dumb rookie?” Tonpa laughed, but his tone betrayed his true colors.

“You poison rookies to get rid of the potential competition,” Guy ranted. “That’s why you’ve taken the exam 29 times. Because you don’t care about becoming a Hunter!” The chef grabbed Tonpa by the collar. “I may have kicked someone in the balls to get out of a grapple, but you are _truly_ sickening!” Tonpa looked back at him smugly.

“You can call me whatever you want, kid, but my cowardice has kept me alive for all these years. It’s idiots like you with actual goals and dreams that get killed. I’m just here to show you that it’s all futile.”

“HOW CAN A SINGLE PERSON BE SUCH AN ASSHOLE?!” His aura became hateful punched Tonpa several more times in his already bruised nose, before he was interrupted by screeching from further down the hall.

“Now you’ve done it.” Menchi shone her lantern light toward the direction of the noise, and saw several dozen large bats flying in their direction. Without thinking, the trio ran back the way they came. The bats followed them as they turned the corner, diving down from the ceiling to reach their prey. Around a dozen of them grabbed Guy by his limbs, tearing away at his skin and slowly eating it. Menchi soon suffered the same fate, while Tonpa remained idle.

“Don’t just stand there! Get them off!” He approached, attempting to grab hold of the bats, but then, a loud, rumbling growl shook the chamber. The bats flew back to their perches, shrieking fearfully. Fresh blood was still dripping off of Guy and Menchi’s arms as they got up off the stone floor.

“Thanks for the help.” Guy thanked Tonpa sarcastically as Menchi tossed him a roll of gauze, which he used to wrap his arms.

“If I’m gonna be dragon fodder, you’re coming with me,” said Tonpa. “That’s what cooperation is, right?”

“I thought I told you to be quiet, Fieri,” Menchi scolded. “We don’t know what other horrors might be in here.”

“Let’s just take the straight path,” said Guy dismissively. “I’ll take traps over man-eating bats any day.”

~~~

As the group returned to where the three paths intersected, they paused.

“I’ll use my lantern to check for anything suspicious,” said Menchi.

“Why not use Tonpa as a meat shield? He’s the only one of us who isn’t--”

“Let’s just focus on escaping this place alive,” said Menchi. “After this phase is done, I don’t care what happens between you two.” She motioned for them to follow her as she scanned the floor for any loose stones or tripwire. After about a minute of walking, she was pleasantly surprised to not find any traps, but she still could not shake her inner suspicions. _Maybe these traps are just really well-hidden, and we just happen to be avoiding them,_ she pondered. _Something is unusual here._ Another minute passed without incident, and the trio reached a stone door marking the end of the hallway.

“This must be another room,” surmised Menchi. “Should we enter?”

“It’s not like we can,” Tonpa pointed out. “There’s no way in.” Upon closer inspection, they found that the door had no knob or keyhole.

“Maybe it just needs a push,” said Guy. The trio heaved against the door with all their might, only pushing it about an inch before it slammed shut.

“It’s no use.” Menchi sighed. “We’re not strong enough.” As Menchi sat reclined against the stone door, Guy rubbed his head pensively. _There must be another way. I’m not dying down here, especially not with HIM._ After a few seconds of thought, he had an idea. _If the entrance was powered by Nen...then this door must respond to it as well! That’s it!_ He stepped towards the door once more.

“Stand back,” he ordered his companions. He stretched his arms in front of him, activating his Ren as he shoved the door open. This time, it opened wider, but it still wasn’t enough. The others moved in to help, slowly pushing the door open inch by inch, until finally, all three of them could get inside. The door slammed shut behind them as they panted wearily.

“There’s that super-strength again,” said Menchi. “You never mentioned where that came from.”

“You’ll have to learn it for yourself,” Guy replied.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, picking up her lantern, which revealed a bedroom. The walls were painted red and gold, in stark contrast to the dull gray in the hallway, and a kaleidoscopic rug laid at the foot of a luxurious, king-sized bed.

“Did someone live down here?” Guy asked.

“It’s pretty clean for something that was last used in ancient times,” remarked Menchi. “It seems not much can get through that door.”

“Do you think there’s treasure in there?” Tonpa pointed to wooden chest beside the bed. Guy opened it with ease, but was disappointed with what he found.

“There’s just some clothes in here,” he said, pulling out a silk turquoise robe.

“It looks ceremonial,” Menchi theorized. “It could count as another treasure.”

“Fair enough,” said Guy, “but we still need two more. How do you plan to find them?”

“I say we wait until the dragon leaves,” said Menchi. “If it sleeps during the day, it must hunt at night. That’s when we’ll take some of its treasure for ourselves.”

“That does explain those roaring sounds last night,” Guy pondered. “Good plan.”

“I know,” replied Menchi. “But first, we should rest while we have the chance. That bed is big enough for the three of us.” Guy looked disgustedly at Tonpa.

“Ugh, fine.” He resigned himself as the three applicants slipped under the covers and fell asleep.

~~~

As Menchi predicted, the dragon left the dungeon at night, indicated by the loud stomping and the increasingly distant sounds of wings flapping. The ruckus was enough to wake the trio from their sleep. Without a word, they moved quickly towards the door and pushed it open, and ran swiftly down the corridor to the dragon’s lair. They stared in awe at the mound of treasure that was now theirs for the taking, then hastily started digging.

“It’s all coins!” Guy was beginning to get frustrated. “There has to be something in this pile that isn’t worthless!”

“Here’s something.” Menchi had found a club about a foot long made from bone. “We just need one more!” Guy dug feverishly, until finally, he found a small crystal sculpture of blue-green color. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be a replica of the dragon.

“This should do it.” He showed Menchi the trinket.

“That makes six! We did it!” She exclaimed, offering a high-five to her companion.

“Finally.” Guy sighed with relief. “But now we have to figure out how to get out of here.”

“Then we’re in luck.” Menchi pointed to a natural exit on the far side of the chamber. When she went to investigate, she saw that the thin shoreline outside extended for only a few feet in either direction before dropping into the ocean.

“I trust both of you know how to swim?”

“Are you joking?!” Tonpa yelled. “There’s enough terrifying monsters on land here. Who knows what could be in the water?”

“We’ll use that as a last resort, then,” said Menchi. “But we only have a day to figure out another way out of here.”

“Let’s just go back to the room before the dragon returns,” said Tonpa. “I’m not waiting around to become a midnight snack again.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t notice the missing treasure,” mused Guy as the trio made their way back to safety.

~~~

“THOSE IMPUDENT HUMANS!” The group was awoken by a bellow that shook the chamber. “THEY STOLE MY CRYSTAL REPLICA! I’LL TEAR THEM APART!”

“Looks like it noticed,” Guy whimpered. “We fucked up big time.”

“I tried to tell you,” Tonpa shrugged. “It’s better to be a coward. Better to survive and come back another year.”

“Oh, can it!” Guy yelled indignantly. “You’re the one who got us trapped in here in the first place!”

“Would you two knock it off already?! Let’s just be grateful that it hasn’t noticed us yet!”

“I SMELL YOU...YOU’RE CLOSE.” The dragon growled. “BUT I DON’T SEE YOU. THERE’S ONLY ONE PLACE YOU CAN BE...KING TARAKONA’S PRIVATE ROOM!” The sound of crumbling stone followed, and it was rapidly getting closer.

“Gee, thanks, Menchi,” said Guy. “What next? We should be grateful it hasn’t killed us yet?” After several moments of digging through stone, the dragon tore apart the wall on the opposite side of the bed, peering in with its golden eye.

“THERE YOU ARE!” It roared. “IT HAS BEEN FOUR CENTURIES SINCE ANY HUMAN HAS TRESPASSED IN MY LAIR. I KNEW YOU WERE HERE THE MOMENT YOU ENTERED, BUT I NEEDED MY BEAUTY REST. TELL ME, WHY HAVE YOU SUDDENLY BECOME SO BRAZEN AS TO STEAL FROM ME?”

“W-well, your majesty,” stuttered Tonpa, “We’ll be happy to return your treasures if you let us go.”

“YOU’RE MORE OF THOSE HUNTER APPLICANTS, AREN’T YOU?!” It growled. “EVERY DECADE OR SO, YOU INTRUDE UPON MY ISLAND FOR WHATEVER INANE REASON YOU WANT MY TREASURE. YET NONE OF YOU KNOW ITS SIGNIFICANCE."

"O, Great Dragon, please enlighten us as to why we shouldn't take your treasure and then let us live." Tonpa begged.

"DO NOT INTERRUPT, HUMAN! OR I SHALL END YOU RIGHT HERE!" It paused before continuing. "I AM WHAKAHARE’TIKANGA, DRAGON QUEEN OF THE CHIKECHI PEOPLE! WHEN THE CHIKECHI CAME TO MY ISLAND, I SAW IN THEM HUMILITY AND GOODNESS, AND SO I OFFERED THEM PROTECTION FROM THE PREDATORS ON THIS ISLAND. IN EXCHANGE, KING TARAKONA’S CRAFTSMEN MADE TRINKETS CELEBRATING MY GREATNESS!” Her voice then shifted to a more hateful tone.

“BUT THEN, IT ALL CAME CRUMBLING DOWN WHEN YOU OUTSIDERS BROUGHT DISEASE AND DESPAIR TO MY PEOPLE! I MADE SURE NONE OF THE INVADERS ESCAPED ALIVE, BUT I STILL COULD NOT SAVE MY PEOPLE." It sighed with regret. "EVEN SO, I CAN STILL PREVENT THE TREASURES THEY LEFT BEHIND FROM FALLING INTO OUTSIDER HANDS! BY MY DECREE, YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE!”


	23. The x Impending x Conflict

The trio barely dodged Tikanga’s oncoming talons, making a run for the door. The dragon watched curiously as Guy pushed it open with all of his strength.

“SO, IT SEEMS ONE OF YOU HAS TARAKONA’S POWER! THAT CHANGES NOTHING! YOU WILL ALL DIE!” The group sprinted for the exit as the dragon furiously tried to break through the walls. Guys thoughts were frantic. _Should I use Nen on the entrance? I doubt it would work. I might as well try it, even if I don’t get out of here alive!_ Guy’s feet carried him without thinking, only focused on escape. Staying on the far side of the corridor, the trio managed to reach the entrance before the dragon could impale them through the walls.

“PUSH!” Guy flared his Ren and shoved with all his strength, this time to no avail. The dragon’s deep cackling interrupted their efforts, as her gargantuan form loomed over them.

“IT’S USELESS!” She gloated. “KING TARAKONA’S POWER WAS STRONGER THAN YOURS! SO STRONG THAT IT PERSISTS AFTER DEATH! NOW, YOU DIE!” She took a swipe at the ceiling above where the paths intersected, which caused that piece of it to collapse, blocking the group into a smaller space. Tikanga took a deep breath in, releasing gallons of water from her mouth. The chill of the water sent a prickling feeling through Guy’s nerves, rendering him motionless.

“At least it’s not fire,” said Guy after he recovered from the shock.

“BURNING WOULD BE TOO MERCIFUL FOR INTRUDERS LIKE YOU! DROWNING, HOWEVER…” She dumped more water on them, slowly filling the chamber. Their clothes clung to their skin like glue, and they shivered profusely from the cold. The water was up to their knees when Menchi had an idea. She pulled the matchbox from her pack. To her horror, the box was wet due to the water that was seeping in through the bag. Out of desperation, however, she still attempted to light a match. The dragon stopped in her tracks.

“JUST WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH, GIRL?! YOU’RE ONLY DELAYING YOUR DEATH!”

“Dammit! It’s not working!” Menchi struck repeatedly to no avail. Tikanga laughed contemptuously.

“YOU’VE FIGURED OUT MY WEAKNESS, IT SEEMS,” she snorted. “TELL ME, BEFORE YOU DROWN...HOW DID YOU COME TO THIS CONCLUSION?”

“Last night...while you were hunting,” Menchi explained, shivering. “I figured there was a reason you didn’t attack our group. And that was because...we had a campfire. It’s safe to assume that most of the other groups simply hid away in the forest or didn’t know how to light a fire. Plus, I can assume that as a nocturnal predator...you have excellent night vision. You would have to have spotted us. The fire is the only reason we’re not dead. Plus, there's those torches at the entrance.”

“HM, CLEVER GIRL,” the dragon chuckled, “NO ONE SINCE THE CHIKECHI HAS FIGURED IT OUT. THEY STILL FEARED MY POWER DESPITE OUR ALLIANCE, SO THEY SET UP A BARRIER TO PREVENT MY PASSAGE INTO THE VILLAGE PROPER, AND IT WORKED. BUT THAT PALTRY MATCHLIGHT WOULDN’T SAVE YOU EVEN IF YOU COULD IGNITE IT! NOW PERISH!” The water in the chamber continued to rise as the dragon continued its onslaught. The situation seemed hopeless as the water passed their waistlines and their chests. As the water came up to their necks, and the trio had to float to keep from going under, Guy reached behind him and pulled the crystal dragon from his pack, showing it to Tikanga. She paused.

“Here!” Guy pleaded. “I stole it!”

“OH? SO THE THIEF CONFESSES.” The dragon laughed. “WELL? HAND IT OVER, AND I’LL MAKE YOUR DEATH QUICK!”

“Well...uh…” Guy hesitated. “I was just gonna say, how...if this ends up in a museum or something, people from around the world will be able to see your beauty!”

“Good going, Guy!” Tonpa praised him, much to the young chef’s displeasure. Tikanga seemed deep in thought, but then, her reptilian visage became angrier.

 ** _“HOW DARE YOU PRESUME THAT ANY OF YOU OUTSIDERS ARE WORTHY OF SEEING MY BEAUTY?!”_** She roared.

“You actually thought that would work.” Menchi rolled her eyes.

“BUT SINCE YOU CONFESSED TO YOUR CRIME,” the dragon continued, “I’LL DO AS I PROMISED.” The dragon reached forward with its long arm and grabbed Guy, bringing him up to meet her face. “ANY LAST WORDS?” The applicants watched in horror as she opened her toothy maw and placed him inside.

“Only that...you’re really going to regret eating me,” wheezed Guy as he attempted to hold her mouth open. For all his effort, however, her jaw snapped shut, and she swallowed him whole.

“FIERI!” Menchi screamed in anguish. “YOU FUCKING MORON!”

“Should have followed my advice.” Tonpa shook his head in sadness. “You rookies never learn.” Tikanga turned her attention back to the others.

“NOW, AS FOR YOU TWO…” the expression on her face turned to a grimace, and for a moment, Menchi swore that her turquoise complexion turned green. The dragon wretched a few times before unleashing a waterfall of vomit on the unfortunate duo, along with a disoriented, yet still breathing, Guy Fieri, who gasped for air while struggling to stay afloat.

“See?” He said when he regained his composure. “I told you you’d regret it.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?! YOU HUMANS DON’T NORMALLY TASTE LIKE THAT!”

“Yeah, and I haven’t given you any more of my juice,” added Tonpa.

“I’m not so sure myself,” said Guy, “but I feel a new strength coming on.”

“SO YOU LET YOURSELF GET EATEN?!” Menchi slapped him. “WHAT KIND OF SICK FUCK ARE YOU?!”

“ENOUGH!” Tikanga roared. She continued her barrage even after they were completely underwater. When the water finally reached the ceiling, its weight proved too much for the door to bear, causing it to collapse. A torrent of water flowed out through the passage. The applicants coughed and gasped for breath as the welcome sensation of sunlight spilled on their faces. Tikanga poked her head out through the entrance, which was too small for her to fit through, and moved forward in an attempt to reach the party.

“YOU ARE BY FAR THE MOST TENACIOUS HUMANS TO EVER HAVE VISITED MY ISLAND!” She growled in frustration. “GRR...YOU’RE NOT WORTH MY TIME! YOU’RE RUINING MY BEAUTY SLEEP! TAKE MY CRYSTAL REPLICA, BUT KNOW THAT THE MOMENT YOUR SCENT ASSAILS MY NOSTRILS ONCE MORE, I WON’T HESITATE TO DROWN YOU!” With that, she huffed, and turned away to go back to her chambers. The trio breathed a sigh of relief.

“We did it,” said Guy. “We passed the third phase.”

“Yeah,” added Tonpa. “I guess we did. You rookies are infuriating.” He chuckled.

“Let’s just head back to the shoreline,” said Menchi. “We still have a day left, and I’d rather not spend another night in this forest.” The other two nodded in agreement and followed her lead, being the first group to finish the third phase.

~~~

“Well,” remarked Bisky as she inspected the remaining applicants, most of whom were speechless, “it seems you learned a lot about the dangers of being a Hunter. Out of 184, only 26 of you remain. Regardless of whether you pass or not, you are all truly masters of your craft.” No applause, celebration, or even a humorous comment from Stick Dinner followed her statement.

“Yeah, master of being an asshole,” Guy muttered to himself. He had still not gotten over his hatred of Tonpa after the harrowing experience they went through. Bisky indicated the large boat behind her.

“This boat will take you to the fourth phase of the exam,” she explained, “but be warned: whatever friendship you established in this phase does not apply from here on out. It’s everyone for themselves.” Guy, Menchi and Tonpa looked at each other, and nodded, silently promising they would give each other hell.

~~~

“Really, Feitan? Here?” Feitan thought it best to take Machi with him on his mission to gather information on the Mafia. As they arrived at the bustling outdoor mall in the center of town, Feitan led her towards a small, dimly-lit store. The racks were lined with dark clothing and other counterculture accessories.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Simply letting your hair down is not the best disguise. We may have avoided the Mafia on the way here, but you need to completely eliminate your chance of getting caught.”

“Fine,” she said. “But this isn’t my taste. I could go to Sephora if I wanted to disguise myself.”

“I would not be caught dead in there,” was Feitan’s reply. As they walked through the double doors, an automatic doorbell sounded. The sound was nearly as gloomy as the store itself.

“Welcome to Hot Topic,” droned the cashier behind the counter. He had a glazed look in his eyes, jet black hair that was swept to the side, and many piercings on his face. Without responding, Feitan and Machi went over to a shelf of band tees and began stuffing them inside Machi’s bag. These bands included such classics as Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and Falling In Reverse.

“Have you even _heard_ of half these bands, Feitan?” Machi looked disgusted with each successive shirt she put in her bag.

“No, but we won’t stand out as much,” said Feitan in a serious tone. “Why don’t you go and pick out some hair dye?” The employee behind the counter seemed completely oblivious to the fact that a theft was in progress, and was instead listening to angry-sounding music. Machi was tempted to pick the bright red hair dye, but figured it would make her stand out more. Sighing, she chose the black, stuffing it in her bag along with the shirts before following Feitan’s cue to exit. However, as they were leaving, Machi saw the reflection of a black-haired man in the store window, grinning at her, but when she looked behind her, she saw no one, but before she could shrug it off, she saw the same man in the window once more.

“Feitan.” She beckoned her companion to come over as he was on his way out the door. He carefully followed Machi’s gaze.

“What are you staring at? I don’t see anything,” he said coldly.

“I’m serious, Feitan.” Machi was beginning to panic. “There’s a man in that window.”

“Let’s just go back to our hotel,” said Feitan. “You can clear your head there.” As Machi followed him out, she caught herself glancing in the window from the outside and saw the same man, inching ever closer towards the glass from inside. Before she could react properly, the man grabbed hold of her, and the world faded to nothing.

~~~

When Machi came back to consciousness, she found herself lying on the ground just outside of Hot Topic. However, there was no crowd of people in the streets, not even pigeons flying between rooftops. Not a sign of life. Additionally, everything was reversed somehow.

“So, you thought you could shoplift from us, did you?” Machi’s attention was drawn towards a man she recognized from earlier. “You thought wrong! And now, you shall die here, trapped in my mirror world!” As soon as the man lunged toward her, she whipped out her needles.

“I see you are no ordinary thief,” the man remarked. “That still won’t save you from death!” Machi easily avoided his attack and entangled him with her thread. The man seemed subdued at first, but suddenly, the thread vanished into thin air.

“I am God in here!” He proclaimed. “I can disable your Nen and render you helpless!” He grabbed Machi by her ankle and brought her to the ground, restraining her and pulling a knife from his pocket and raising it high over his head. “Now die, shopli--” he hesitated as he recognized her hair color.

“You...you wouldn’t happen to be the girl from the wanted poster?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was Machi’s deadpan reply.

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl!” The man laughed. “Changing your hair might throw off the capos for a short time, but you can’t fool them forever. You were involved in Raffaele Ardito’s murder. And as such, I think our boss would like a word with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Sorry for the long wait again guys! I did get caught up in real life. I also had to read of a bit of JoJo part 5 in order to write some of the following chapters. I think the crossover is going to be more apparent from here on out, aside from the whole Josuke/Tonio thing. Now, if only we could get a part 5 anime...ah well, I guess I'll enjoy HxH while it's still off hiatus.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> \- Joey


	24. The x Troupe's x Progression

“Your...boss?” Machi’s voice registered shock. Was a chance to take out the Joumerra City Mafia at its head already presenting itself?

“Relax, you’re not in trouble,” the man laughed. “I only said he wants a word with you.” He dispelled the effects of his mirror world, restoring everything to its rightful place. Feitan, cold and expressionless as always, was waiting for her.

“Took you long enough,” he remarked. “And I thought you were going crazy.”

“Tch, how was I supposed to know they’d go to these lengths for shoplifters?” Machi retorted. “Who the fuck would steal from Hot Topic anyway?”

“Besides you? Quite a few, actually,” added the mysterious man. “It’s pretty hard to make an honest living in this city. Circumstances, you see.” He cleared his throat. “But the boss’ll explain everything, so follow me. Your friend can come too.” The two Troupe members followed him to the bored cashier.

“Hey, Todd,” he greeted the young employee, but he was ignored. “TODD! Look alive.” He screamed and snapped his fingers, getting the teen’s attention. “I need the keys to the back room.”

“Yeah, sure,” Todd droned, doing as he was ordered. “Can I go now? My lil bro wants me to teach him how to skate tonight.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said the man dismissively. “We’re about to close up shop anyway.”

“Right. See ya.” Todd shambled his way from behind the counter towards the door, but not before casting a scornful glare at Machi and muttering the word “prep” under his breath. She rolled her eyes at the comment.

“Follow me.” The man led the two Troupe members to a nondescript black door, hidden behind a shelf where a disconcerting amount of black Hello Kitty tees were hung. Beyond the door was a small room that appeared to be an elevator. However, there was only a single button on the control panel, which the man pressed before turning to face the door without another word.

As the elevator began its long descent, Machi wondered where the man could be taking them. Whoever he was, he was definitely involved with the Mafia, but as indicated by his non-aggressive behavior, he didn’t seem to be an enemy. In fact, he could be a potential ally, but the Phantom Troupe hardly trusted anyone outside of their circle. Still, Machi’s hunches were correct more often than not, so she remained confident.  


At last, the elevator reached the bottom of the shaft, and the sliding doors bid the trio to exit. They stepped into a dimly-lit foyer with a single door at the end. The man knocked several times, and after a few tense seconds, the door opened to reveal an office. Despite the uninviting dark lighting, the office was situated with chairs, a desk, and even a mini-fridge, but the biggest presence in the room was the silhouette sitting behind the desk, appearing to be a male with long, black hair and a cold, calculating expression.

“Illuso, it’s been awhile since we've had visitors.” The silhouette addressed the mysterious man in a deep voice. He pointed to the chairs in the corner. “Please, have a seat.”

~~~

“So, Illuso,” the man spoke after they took their seats, “would you care to enlighten me as to who these two are? I assume they aren’t ordinary shoplifters.”

“They are not,” Illuso confirmed. “I let them live because I believe they were involved in Raffaele Ardito’s murder.”

“Really now?” The man questioned contemplatively. “Let’s hear it from the horse’s mouth. Did you two kill Ardito?”

“Was _that_ his name?” Feitan mocked. “He didn’t put up a fight at all. It was disappointing.” _Of course,_ Machi sighed. _He never passes up an opportunity to brag._

“I figured he didn’t,” the man replied. “He was only a low-level enforcer, but he had influence. Enough that stealing his car and leaving his body in a ditch would get the attention of the media. You must be bandits of some skill to have pulled that off.” He paused before continuing. “But you let your sadism get ahead of you. Why would you tell us this without knowing which side we’re on?”

“Don’t flatter yourselves,” said Feitan. “I could easily take on both of you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” said the man, “but no matter. We’re working against the Mafia as well. I will tell you my story so that you may better understand.” He turned on a small desk lamp, and the pale yellow light revealed all his features. His most noteworthy feature was his eyes, piercing red irides against sinister black sclerae. This was definitely a man to be reckoned with.

“My name is Risotto Nero,” he said in a serious tone. “I joined the Mafia when I was 18 because circumstances led to me into the criminal underworld. I eventually became the leader of an elite assassination squad, which Illuso was also a part of. There were nine of us in total, but now, we’re the only two left.” He sighed. “I assume you want to eliminate the Mafia at its head. They’re crawling all over this city searching for you, and that’s the only way to get them off your back. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” said Machi, “but we still don’t know who they are or where their headquarters are.”

“That is the very dilemma that doomed my squad,” lamented Risotto. “The boss is a very secretive and cautious man. Not even the underbosses know his identity. And that infuriated me. I was tired of taking orders from a ghost, and tired of my limited control. So, my squad and I sought to expose the boss’ identity, and one by one, my comrades were killed. We were forced to establish this store as a hideout. Illuso’s special abilities enabled him to survive, while I remained in the shadows, waiting for my time to strike. And now, seeing you two before me, it seems that time has come. Will you help us?”

“We haven’t agreed to anything yet,” protested Machi. “You said you were tired of having limited control. How do I know you won’t take over once the boss is dead?”

“I no longer care about power.” Risotto’s tone resounded with finality. “I just want to right the wrongs that were inflicted on my men. But we’re in the same boat. The Mafia know what you look like and won’t hesitate to kill you. Still, by getting here, you have shown that you have considerable stealth and other skills. That is why I ask for your help.”

“No, thanks,” said Machi. “We already have friends of our own.”

“I see. You seem confident,” remarked Risotto, “but you won’t find their headquarters without my help. I will at least tell you that much.” He pulled a topographic map of the city from under his desk. “There’s a mansion on the northeast end of the city, sectioned off from the other buildings by a long dirt road.” He circled the position with a black ink pen. “It will be heavily guarded, but if you have ‘friends’ as you say, you’ll be able to get in without much issue.” Machi glanced at the map before turning to Risotto.

“Thanks,” she said unenthusiastically. “We’ll be going now.”

“Before you leave,” said Risotto as they were on their way out the door, “there’s another reason you’re fighting the Mafia. Would you care to tell me?”

“I can’t speak for my boss,” Machi replied. “He’s a genius. He works in mysterious ways.”

“As usual,” said Risotto, “But his goals align with mine, whoever he is. When you decide to make your move...good luck.” The Troupe members nodded in acknowledgement at Risotto and Illuso before leaving the way they came.

~~~

As the boat continued its progress towards the site of the fourth phase, conversation was sparse. The gravity of Bisky’s statement must have affected the attitude of the applicants. Even Menchi seemed to be taking the competition seriously, so much so that she had stopped bugging Guy with her usual questions. To his dismay, Guy was bored. The tense atmosphere made him uncomfortable, so he pulled out his phone, which miraculously still functioned in spite of all the hell that Guy recently endured. Shalnark was handy with technology, after all, so he could pull it off. _I should probably call him and let him know what happened,_ Guy decided to himself. _It’s been a few days._ Almost as soon as the phone started ringing, Shalnark answered.

“Guy!” Shalnark cheerfully greeted his friend and student. “It’s good to hear from you! Where have you been?”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Guy. “I had no reception for the third phase, but I passed.”

“Nice job! I was beginning to worry about you,” Shalnark admitted. “It must have been pretty difficult.”

“Believe me, ‘difficult’ doesn’t begin to describe it,” said Guy. “There was a dragon.”

“A dragon? And you defeated it?” Shalnark didn’t even question the truth of Guy’s claim.

“Well...not really,” confessed Guy. “She kind of...let us go after a while. But there’s something I’ve noticed about my Nen lately, and I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Oh? Interesting. Tell me more.”

“I’ve noticed that...my Nen appears to change the taste of whatever I apply it to. A chef mentioned that the taste of a pizza I made was unusual, but not bad, probably because I used Nen to make the dough flatten faster. And I can even apply the taste to myself...don’t ask how I know that. Please.” There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Hmm...this might be a bit of a stretch,” said Shalnark, “but you could be subconsciously developing your Hatsu.”

“What’s a Hatsu? You never taught me this.”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you while you were busy with your exam,” explained Shalnark. “But you already know what Hatsu is, in a sense. It describes honing your Nen and creating a unique special ability, like my Black Voice, or Machi’s needles. Or Feitan’s Pain Packer, for that matter.”

“Yeah, I think I understand,” said Guy hastily, recalling the time Feitan almost burned down the chapel in his anger. “But how did you develop your Hatsu?”  


“Well, first, I had to know what category of Nen user I belonged to. I was exaggerating when I said you were subconsciously developing a Hatsu, but you’ve taken the first step. It’s not unheard of for people to be able to use Nen without their knowledge. Many famous athletes, psychics, and incidentally, some chefs are able to do so. But to properly develop a Hatsu, you must know what category you belong to. I don’t want you worrying about that just yet, though. Wait till you finish the exam.”

“Sure thing,” said Guy. “And...thanks, Shalnark. For enabling me to get this far.”

“My pleasure! You’re a Troupe member and a friend.” He cheerfully accepted the gratitude. “Oh, and one other thing.” His tone had become more serious. “The boss is planning an attack on the Mafia’s headquarters in Joumerra City. We’re stuck here and can’t escape due to the blockade they’ve set up around the city. Machi and Feitan are out gathering information, and I thought the boss would want me to get you on board with it as soon as I had the chance. Do you feel like you’re ready?”

“Hmm...I don’t know if this exam has me on edge or not, but I feel pretty comfortable with killing now. I’ll do it.”

“Alright. Make sure to take an airship in the city in case none of us can pick you up after the exam. The boss will assemble everyone else and lead the assault. See you then!”

“Yup, see ya.” With that, Guy hung up and returned to his boredom, wondering when they would reach the exam site. The particularly foggy night made it impossible for Guy to tell when they’d reach it.

Just then, Guy was distracted by what sounded like a confused yell, followed by gasps of surprise and applicants scrambling to their feet, trying to analyze the situation. There were more shouts of panic as Guy observed that the number of applicants on board was decreasing. Before he could properly assess what was happening, a black hole appeared at his feet, and he was pulled in, screaming all the way down. When he landed, he was in a featureless white room, surrounded by the other applicants, who were just as confused as he was. What exactly did the fourth phase entail?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hey, thanks for reading! Since this is the first Troupe-heavy chapter we've had in a while, I thought it would be pertinent information to list their (headcanon) ages at this time. 
> 
> Chrollo - 19  
> Guy - 16  
> Shalnark - 17  
> Feitan - 15  
> Machi - 17  
> Nobunaga - 22  
> Uvogin - 22  
> Pakunoda - 21  
> Franklin - 18
> 
> There, now you know. Congratulations. Thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Joey


	25. Doubt x And x Despair

“Is this supposed to be the next phase? Where the fuck are we?” Most of the applicants grew frenzied as they were coming to terms with their current situation. Being pulled through a black hole and into a strange room was, after all, a strange and distressing experience. Guy, however, was not so traumatized. He sat back and watched the applicants frantically hammer at the blank, white walls in hopes of finding an exit, all while wearing a smirk. _This is obviously someone’s Hatsu,_ he concluded. _These people don’t stand a chance if this is how they’re reacting. Still, it’s a powerful ability. Most likely one of the examiners, but the fact that Nen can enable a person to pull this off…it’s unbelievable!_ Just then, a door materialized on the wall, and through it stepped a tall, slender man with jet-black hair. He wore a pressed black suit and tie, and behind his thin-rimmed glasses, his eyes held a scrutinizing glare. The applicants fell silent as they noticed his presence.

“Hmm...I don’t see much promise among this batch of applicants,” he began coldly. “Running about like chickens before a wolf when confronted with an unusual situation. As a Hunter, you never know what you opponent is capable of.” He adjusted his glasses before continuing. “I am Knov, your examiner for the fourth phase.”

“That’s great and all, but how the hell did we get here?” An applicant with a brown pompadour and angular mustache spoke up.

“Only Hunters are privy to that information,” replied Knov. “If you manage to pass the exam, then you will find out for yourself.” Guy’s confidence grew with this statement. _I already know what’s happening. I got this exam in the bag!_ He tried to stifle a smirk before Knov saw it.

“So...is this the exam site?”

“Nearly,” said Knov. “The exam will take place on Puao Island. It is safer to teleport there from this place than travel by boat. The island is shrouded in a perpetual fog that makes navigation quite difficult.”

“D-don’t tell us this is another survival situation.” A man whose clothes had been thoroughly torn piped up. “I don’t think I can make it a second time.”  


“This is a more controlled phase than the last one,” explained Knov. “You will be navigating a maze. All of you will start from different points. Your goal is to reach the center before dusk. You will rely on both your physical and mental strengths during this phase, but as I’m sure Bisky told you, you’ll be pitted against each other.” He adjusted his glasses once more. “To move on to the final phase, you must collect the other applicants’ badges.” There were gasps among the contestants.

“In order to pass,” continued Knov, “you must reach the center with no less than six points. Your badge is worth three, and everyone else’s badges are worth one. If you complete the maze without meeting the quota, you will be disqualified.”

“You call that fair?!” The one Guy recognized as Josuke protested. “You’re gonna judge us based on whether or not we can collect some stupid badges?!”

“Precisely.” Knov did not miss a beat. “If that weren’t the case, then any brute with big enough muscles could just break their way through the maze. It’s my firm belief that you must excel at everything to become a Hunter. Only the most elite are fit to join our Association.” Despite his arrogant statement, Knov did not appear to be overstating anything. Josuke could not come up with a snappy response to save his life.

“At any rate,” Knov cleared his throat, “it’s a relatively simple phase. I trust you all understand what’s at stake here.” The examiner pulled a small key out of his chest pocket, using it to open the door he entered through. Beyond it was a swirling, blackish-purple void.

“To ensure you all have different starting points,” instructed Knov, “you will step through the door one at a time. Line up single file and wait until I close the door behind the person in front before entering.” In order of least reluctance, the applicants obliged. Guy ended up eighth out of twenty-six. When it was finally his turn to begin the next phase, Knov seemed to be studying him closely, glaring at him for what seemed like an eternity before nodding pensively and letting him pass. Guy stepped forward, ready for whatever the fourth phase had to offer. 

~~~

The trip back through the hole was slightly less disorienting for Guy. The first thing the young chef noticed as he came to his senses was the thick fog. Combined with the warm air, the oppressive humidity of the rainforest nearly knocked him breathless. More intimidating, however, were the imposing stone walls, about ten feet high, that blocked his way on all sides. This was, indeed, a maze, and from what Guy could tell, there were no doors to be found. He began to panic. Apparently, his time in the dragon’s dark chambers would have a lasting effect on the chef’s mind.

“Think, dammit, think!” Guy pounded his temple with his fist in an effort to compose himself. The unrelenting fog didn’t help his situation, and only made him feel more trapped. His breathing began to quicken.

“I’m not going to die here...I’m gonna get the fuck out of this place! I’m gonna get my Hunter license!” He recited this mantra to himself repeatedly, and eventually, his breathing became steady once more. He began chuckling to himself, almost involuntarily.

“What the hell was I freaking out for?” he chided himself. “I can use my Nen to break these walls!” With rediscovered confidence, he channeled his Ko, concentrating his Nen in his fists, and hit the wall with all his strength. To Guy’s dismay, he had only made a small dent in it. He threw another punch, then another, then another, until he was exhausted. He could only pound on the surface in frustration, which had no effect. Panting with desperation, he peered through the fog, looking for another way. Through the mist, he saw what appeared to be a golden statue, mockingly looking down at his kneeling form. Hesitantly, he approached it, and as if on command, it came to life, its eyes glowing a brilliant shade of yellow.

“The way beyond is closed to you, hopeful.” The statue intoned in a deep, hollow voice. “It can only be opened with a sound mind.”

“Oh, don’t tell me...riddles,” said the young chef in a tone filled with annoyance and dread.

“Here is my riddle.” The statue completely ignored his statement. “I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost everybody.” 

“You’ve got to be SHITTING me!”

“That is incorrect,” spoke the statue. “You must remain here and ponder your errors, or find some other way.” Guy groaned in frustration and pulled out his phone, in the slim hope that Shalnark would help him, but as he feared, there was no signal. He sighed and slouched against the wall. Truly, it seemed had to rely on only his own strength to pass the fourth phase. 

~~~

“Great. I’m shut in on all sides.” As he got up off the ground and dusted off his custom button-down school uniform, Josuke Higashikata observed his surroundings, sighing with indignation as he noticed the stone walls around him. However, he took special note of the golden statues to his left and right. _Maybe it’s guarding some sort of door,_ he pondered. _Either way, I gotta get out of here before this damn humidity messes with my pompadour!_ Josuke strode up to the statue, and as soon as he reached out to touch it, its eyes began to glow.  


“The way beyond is closed to you, hopeful. It can only be opened with a sound mind.”  


“Great, so I need some telekinesis bullshit to pass.” Josuke clicked his tongue in irritation. _Not even Jotaro can help with that, but he’s already got his Hunter license. Dammit, I guess I have to I get mine without him._

“Here is my riddle. Three playing cards in a row. There is a two to the right of a king. A diamond will be found to the left of a spade. An ace is to the left of a heart. A heart is to the left of a spade. Now, identify all three cards.”

“Oi, I don’t have time for this!” Josuke put a hand on his hip and pointed an accusing finger at the statue. “Can’t you see my hair is losing its volume, you bastard?!” He flattened his hair for emphasis, growling in frustration when it wouldn’t revert back to its former glory.

“That is incorrect. You must remain here and ponder your errors, or find some other way.”

“Hey! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you!” Josuke paused briefly and sighed, realizing how ridiculous he looked yelling at a statue whose sole purpose was to give riddles. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself. _I’ve been meaning to show that examiner what for. I’ll prove him wrong! I’m still working out how to use this power, but I’ll get through this stupid maze the only way I know how...BRUTE STRENGTH!_ The young man became shrouded in a pink aura, and from it manifested a tall humanoid entity with a powerful build and bubblegum pink skin. To an onlooker, it would also appear to be clad in silver armor.

“GO! CRAZY DIAMOND!” Josuke directed all his attention to the wall in front of him. “DORARARARARARARARARA!” He shouted as Crazy Diamond punched its way through the wall effortlessly. Josuke emerged triumphantly on the other side, using Crazy Diamond to seal the opening he left behind him.

“Hmph! That’ll show that examiner,” said Josuke proudly. “Now to go find me some badges to collect…”

~~~

Guy took a break from his moping to look up to the sky. Other than the fact that the surrounding fog looked brighter, there was no indicator of what time of day it was, and his phone had died hours ago. In his depression, he had nearly burned through his rations, and hunger was settling in. Setting his hunger aside, he put his head in his hands once more.

 _This is stupid,_ he thought. _I don’t deserve my license if I have to rely on others. I’ll just sit here until the exam ends or I die._ Suddenly, he was interrupted by the sound of grinding stone. Becoming alert, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. In the mist, he saw a tall, muscular man with brown hair all over his body. He wore a vest that left his torso exposed. Guy vaguely recognized him from earlier, but paid him no mind, since he seemed a quiet type. He looked down upon the teen, stroking his stubble.

“Ah, another hopeful.  
When I collect your bounty,  
Then I will have six,” he recited.  


“Who the hell are you?” Guy jeered.

“Please, call me Basho,  
Master of both pen and fist.  
That’s all you need know.”

Before Guy could respond, Basho grabbed him by the scruff of his hoodie and punched him in the gut, making him yelp in pain, but to his surprise, it didn’t knock him unconscious. He lay there in a fetal position while Basho rummaged through his belongings.

“Hm...you didn’t hide it in your pack like the others,” observed Basho. “That must mean it’s on your person.” As soon as Basho made a move to remove Guy’s jacket, the young chef flared his aura in anger. Grabbing hold of his attacker’s leg, he swung as hard as he could and knocked him on the ground.

“Hands off my hoodie,” he said as he stared venom into his attacker, ripping his badge, #17, from his vest, and putting it in his pocket.

“I commend your strength…  
The answer is ‘pencil lead’.  
So says the statue.”

The poet groaned as recovered from the blow. Guy ignored him, reciting the correct answer to the statue, which wordlessly let him pass. He turned the corner of the maze, only to be confronted with another golden statue. Before he could approach the statue, the wall to his immediate right broke open, and through it stepped a tall young man about his age, sporting an obnoxious pompadour. Guy recognized him as Josuke.

“You’re the pizza guy, aren’t you?” Josuke pointed at the young chef. “You’re a damn good chef, but I hope you know...that won’t save you from having your badge stolen.”

“Just try it, greaser. I’m not in the mood right now.” Guy glared at him and proceeded towards the gap in the wall, but was stopped when Josuke spun him around by his shoulder to face him.

“Oi! You take that back!” When he got no response, he added, “Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then.” Guy observed in shock as his opponent became shrouded in a pink aura. _No way...don’t tell me he can use Nen too!_ Before he could react, he was pummeled with a flurry of punches all over his body. From what he could tell, his attacker was a pink humanoid figure.

“DORARARARARARARARARA!” Josuke shouted a battle cry. Before Guy knew it, he was on the ground with several broken bones, and Josuke had torn his badge from his shirt in all the commotion.

“Give...give that back," he strained.

“Hm? Sorry, no can do,” Josuke replied dryly. “Don’t worry, I’ll heal your wounds. I’m a nice guy, after all.” Just then, almost as if by magic, Guy’s bones snapped back into place and mended together. Even his wounds from the previous phase were gone.

“Oh? Another badge?” The chef looked towards where Josuke was looking at the ground. Basho’s badge had fallen out of his jacket. His inner voice screamed at him to reach for it before he picked it up, but he refused, fearing Josuke’s power.

“That makes six, then.” Josuke had already picked up the badge. "Great, now I won’t have to go hunting for someone else. See ya.” He exited as quickly as he entered, and the gap sealed behind him. Guy was left trapped, all alone, with only his self-doubt for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Holy SHIT, it's been a while since I've written. Nearly 5 months, to be exact, but yes, I'm still alive! I just got very, very caught up with school (that's an understatement) so I had not very much time to sit down and write. Still, I had the creative juices flowing in my head, so I always intended to come back to this after my semester was over. I'll hopefully make time for more writing next semester!
> 
> Also, this might be a little ambitious, but I have a new project in mind that I think you will enjoy. I'm still working out how to get started on it, but I really personally love the idea so I'm eager to get to work on it. Don't worry, this doesn't mean I'll abandon this project *fingers crossed* 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed your belated Christmas present! Still more to come!
> 
> \- Joey


	26. A x Self x Actualization

_That bastard!_ Guy was seething in the aftermath of Josuke’s assault. _He hid his power pretty good when he attacked Bisky on the beach. Maybe because it’s close-range. But that’s not important right now. He got my badges! I’ll KILL HIM!_ He threw a punch at the stone wall behind him in a fit of rage, which only resulted in bruised knuckles. Realizing he truly could not get his license with his own strength, the young chef held his head to his knees and let hot, shameful tears stream down his face. _Pathetic. I don’t deserve my license after all._

Just then, Guy was alerted to the sound of metal clinking against a stone surface, followed by muffled footsteps. He saw someone jump down from the top of the wall and land with a clumsy somersault.

“Ow! Dammit,” said a young female voice. “Gymnastics was never my strong suit.”

“Go away.” Guy was embarrassed at how broken his voice sounded. “I have nothing you want.” He lifted his head to glare angrily at whoever was approaching.

“Guy? Is that you?” It was a voice he recognized, and it belonged to a girl in a tank top and striking turquoise hair, the last person he wanted to see him crying.

“Menchi,” he solemnly addressed his rival, quickly wiping his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I’m trying to navigate this maze,” she said matter-of-factly. “This grappling hook comes in handy, but I’m still learning how to use it.” In her hand, she held a thick rope, which was tied to a hook with four prongs. “What about you? You don’t seem to be doing much of anything.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Guy snapped. “I’m not strong or smart enough, and I don’t have any fancy MacGyver bullshit in my pack! Plus, I’m down to zero points all because of some asshole who can punch through walls.”

“Wait...was he tall? With stupid hair?” Guy nodded silently. “Yeah, he took my badge too. I’ve been tracking his movements, but with little luck. It’s probably not worth it, but he had this...strange power, like he was throwing invisible punches. He even healed me right after! Weird, huh?” When he didn’t respond, Menchi sighed and crouched down to look at him. “This isn’t like you, Guy. Where did all that confidence go?”

“Just leave me alone.” His reply earned him a sharp slap to the face.

“Get a hold of yourself!” She shouted. “You're a _horrendous_ cook. I still stand by that, but you have confidence to back it up. And that’s why you’re coming with me to the final phase. So I can have someone I think is worthy to challenge me!” She forcefully grabbed her rival by his collar and stood him up. “Stop your moping! We can still collect other people’s badges, even if we don’t have our own!” Guy wiped his eyes once more, managing a small smile.

“Fine, I’ll come with you. And I’ll make sure you eat those words, along with your shitty cooking.”

“That was terrible.” She chuckled, swinging her rope around her head and tossing the hook onto the top of the wall. “Start climbing and get us a better view, Fieri! We have an exam to finish!” Guy obliged, smiling, even as the nagging feeling that he had to get help once more ate away at him inside.

~~~

“Finally, someone arrives at the finish.” Knov was staring judgmentally at Josuke as he stepped through the gap in the wall he created, and sealed it behind him, walking into the center of the maze. “Let me see your badges as proof that you deserve to progress.” Josuke casually tossed his badges to the examiner, pursing his lips in a smug manner.

“Hm...196, 420, 17...and your own badge, 77. Congratulations, you pass.”

“Ha! I knew I could beat this maze with brute strength! In your FACE!” He grinned triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air.

“Hm. I had no idea you were so personally offended by my comment.” Knov simply adjusted his glasses in response. “Fortunately for you, our Chairman is more lenient than I am. You might not have my approval, but the Association as a whole will acknowledge you. Plus, you seem to have abilities that go beyond that of normal people. Am I correct?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Typically, you’d learn Nen after you get your license. You were already at an advantage from the very beginning, even more so because of your Hatsu’s capabilities. A true Hunter must earn their power. Still, you chose a powerful ability. I commend you for that much.”

“Hmph. I don’t need your approval,” Josuke pouted.

“You asked what I thought, so I answered. Remain here until the phase has concluded.” With that final comment, Knov began rubbing his foggy lens with a soft cloth, and the two sat in awkward silence.

~~~

“Well? What do you see?” Menchi asked as Guy perched on top of the wall.

“Only more maze,” responded Guy. “Plus, with all this fog, there’s no telling where the center could be.” Menchi stroked her chin pensively.

“Get down and hand me the rope.” After a brief struggle, Guy unfastened the rope from the wall and handed it to Menchi, trusting her quick thinking. She then anchored it to the wall on the opposite side and took a peek over.

“Good news!” She shouted from above. “I don’t see the maze!”

“And how, exactly, is that good news?” Guy asked, puzzled.

“Because of that.” She pointed to where two of the walls intersected. “We’re in a corner, so we can safely assume the center is in the opposite direction!”

“Great, but how do we know which direction--” Guy stopped mid-sentence, assuring himself that Menchi had a solution. Sure enough, she pulled a small compass out of her pack, rotating it so that north and south lined up with the needle.

“According to the compass, this is the southeasternmost point in this maze,” she explained. “Naturally, that means we have to head northwest to get to the center! You follow?” The young chef nodded.

“But we’ll have to find twelve badges for both of us as well,” he added. “How can we be so sure there are even that many people still in the game?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of stragglers still lost in this maze,” Menchi reassured him as she climbed back down. “This is the penultimate phase, after all. This exam was designed for only the creme de la creme to pass. What do you say, Fieri?” Menchi smiled at him, and Guy returned the gesture with a determined gleam in his eyes.

“I say we go on a little hunt.”

~~~

“Ugh, this is ridiculous! How haven’t we found anyone yet?” It had been a half hour since the two aspiring chefs set out to find badges to collect, and so far, no other applicants had turned up. Guy’s legs were sore from climbing so much, especially around his kneecaps and calves. His frustration was beginning to mount.

“We just have to be patient,” said Menchi. “With only twenty-six applicants in such a big maze, they have to be pretty spread out.”

“I’ve tried being patient already,” Guy retorted. “It’s not exactly working out for me.”

“Look, I know it’s discouraging that we’ve had our badges stolen from us,” Menchi reasoned. “But surely--”

“You don’t seem very discouraged to me at all!” Guy snapped. “How can you be so righteous when you’ve had your badge stolen?! What happened to that need to prove you’re superior to everyone?!”

“Shut up, Fieri!” Menchi had also reached her boiling point. “Between being beaten by you at arm wrestling and almost getting killed by a dragon, I think I know not to underestimate people! It was you that refused my help in the previous phase!” There was a pause before Guy stepped dangerously close to Menchi.

“Do you have any idea how it is?” He lowered his voice to an icy whisper. “Having to rely on other people to get by for your whole life? No, of course not. You had parents to support you and a mentor to hone your skills, but you didn’t need those people because from what you told me, you were born with those skills!" His voice gradually rose to a yell. "If it weren’t for Ramsay, I’d be dead in an alleyway, and if it weren’t for the Troupe, I’d be stuck doing unpaid work at a fast food restaurant! People flock to you because you have a gift, but I went through HELL to get to where I am! My goal is to find the ultimate flavor and prove that I don’t need anyone’s help anymore!” Menchi simply stared back at him angrily.

“Fine then,” she said. “If you’d prefer to wait another year to achieve your goals, then it’s not my problem. As for me, I’ve got an exam to win. I was a fool to think you were a worthy competitor.” With that, she stormed off in the other direction, but before she could fasten her rope to the wall and climb over, Guy tore it from her hands and did it himself, beginning his ascent.

“Well?! Are you coming or not?!” He yelled to her when he was about halfway up. Menchi nodded and followed suit. As soon as Guy reached the top, he was surprised to see a fellow applicant, wearing simple clothing and wielding a small sword. Immediately, he jumped down to confront him.

“Oh, good!” Noticing Guy’s approach, he grinned in anticipation and raised his blade. “Seems I don’t have to go look for my last badge!” Guy flared his Nen and rushed his opponent before he could strike. He cried out for mercy as the young chef punched him in the face, repeatedly bashed his head against the ground, and finally landed a crushing blow to his skull with a nearby rock.

“Sorry, but you’re out of luck,” he said after letting the applicant fall limp on the ground. “I don’t have what you’re looking for.” He looked behind him as he heard Menchi land on the ground. She gasped, catching sight of the fresh corpse with blood pouring out of his cracked cranium.

“Oh my God…” she whispered breathlessly. “You...you killed him. You actually _killed_ him!” The reality of what Guy had done was beginning to sink in for both of them. To Guy’s surprise, he felt a sick sense of satisfaction, especially as he picked up three badges.

“I guess I did,” he agreed nonchalantly. “But I’m only halfway there. We still have a long way to go.” Thunder rumbled off in the distance, as if to punctuate Guy’s newfound resolve.

“Crap, it’s gonna rain.” Menchi was still in shock as she spoke timidly. “W-we have to find shelter.”

“No need.” Guy was already one step ahead, fastening the hook to the wall. “We’ll have our badges before this storm passes.” Before he began climbing, however, he took a moment to look back at his victim, slowly approaching him. Then, he tore his bloody shirt open and took his blade, using it to carve an inscription into the man's chest. When he finished, the resulting cuts spelled out ‘ **GUY FIERI** ’ in haphazard, angular letters. Menchi could only look on in unabated horror.

“Let’s go.” There was another clap of thunder, much closer this time, as the young chef scaled the wall. _I knew he was dangerous,_ Menchi pondered as she followed, her legs shaking. _I’m lucky he decided to take it out on someone else. Maybe it’s because he feels comfortable opening up to me. Either way, I have to tread lightly around him from now on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a good 2018 so far! I know I am, because I resolved to make time for myself to write this year, even during the semester! I know I kind of already broke my resolution, since I took like 2 weeks to finish writing this chapter, but I'll try not to leave my readers hanging for 4 months this time *fingers crossed*. This is definitely a dark chapter with which to start off my writing this year, but on a brighter note, I have another pretty ambitious project in mind that I'm gonna get started on, and maybe a few cute little drabbles here and there if I'm in the mood. Anyway, I'm looking forward to another fantastic year of writing, and I hope you guys take this as a cue to start any projects you've been holding off on *wink wink* Good luck and thanks for reading!
> 
> \- Joey


	27. Hidden x Nature x Revealed

“No! S-stay back! I’m warning you!” The rain began to pour as Guy found his next victim. Even as the young woman pulled out her blowgun in self-defense, he did not cease his approach. The frightened girl aimed for his head, and with all the breath she could manage, blew a dart at him. He saw through her attack and ducked, rushing towards her and grabbing her neck before she could reload. She gulped and closed her eyes in resignation.

“Pathetic.” He took out the knife he had stolen from his previous kill. “Let’s just hope you were good enough to get a few badges.” With that, he mercilessly stabbed her in her jugular, watching as she gagged on her own blood before the life faded from her eyes. The young chef wasted no time checking her belongings for the spoils.

“Dammit,” he sighed when he only found two badges. “I still need one more. How disappointing.” Menchi could only watch, unable to intervene, even as she noticed they were heading away from the center. _I should have listened to my instincts,_ she chided herself mentally. _I just wanted someone to challenge my skills, someone I saw as equal...but now I see that’s not the case. Still, I must get us back on track...but how?_ She froze in her tracks as Guy turned his cold eyes towards her.

“Do what you want, just don’t get in my way.” She nodded, silently thankful that her rival was kind enough to leave the rope behind.

~~~

“G-go away! I have nothing you want!” As swiftly as the wind brought on by the storm, Guy lunged at his opponent, an old man cowering against the wall. With no weapon, he could only reach out with his arms, but the aspiring chef wasted no time breaching his feeble defense, tackling him and viciously slicing through various parts of his torso. He tore off the man’s clothes and pack and began digging through them, like a wild animal burying its prey. After about a minute, he suddenly burst into laughter.

“Nothing?! You’re telling me you had NOTHING?!” A sheet of lightning flickered across the gray sky, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. “Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! Yes...pathetic, like I used to be.” He chuckled to himself bitterly. “I still need that last badge! Where could it have run off to?!” Menchi fought the urge to point out the golden statue guarding the door in front of him. Fortunately for her, he didn’t take too long to notice.

“THERE you are, you little shit!” He began swinging his rope around his head, making sure to hit the statue with his hook, resulting in a satisfying metallic clang.

“And FUCK your riddles! I don’t need YOU! Or ANYONE!” As he climbed, he kicked the statue in the face.

“The way beyond is closed to you, hopeful. It can only be opened with a sound mind.” The statue ignored Guy’s disrespectful gesture and uttered its standard greeting. As petulant as the young chef’s display was, it only served to make him appear more dangerous to Menchi. Giving him a wide berth, she followed, hoping his rampage wouldn’t end with her.

~~~

After about fifteen grueling minutes of navigating the maze through the driving rain, the young chef had finally happened upon his fourth victim. This time, however, his opponent, well-built middle-aged man, seemed prepared.

“Looking for this?” He confidently took a badge out of his pocket. Letting loose a fierce battle cry, Guy charged towards him and attempted to swipe it from his hand, but he pulled back and gave a swift chop to the back of the teen’s neck, knocking him face down on the ground.

“I heard you yelling earlier,” he said smugly. “I thought you might be after this. I didn’t have the heart to kill that pathetic old man, but from the looks of it, you finished him off.” He pointed out his bloodied jacket. Guy growled in frustration.

“You’re dangerous. And that’s why I can’t let you live. Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick. Just close your eyes.” He watched as the man pulled what looked like a small wooden flute out of his pack, as well as a cage. Through the bars, the chef could see three rats, squeaking and scurrying about the confined space. He set it down, opening the hatch to let them run free, and played a lively tune on his flute. As soon as the music began, the rats stopped their aimless running and turned their attention to Guy, climbing onto his neck and painfully gnawing at his flesh. The rain diluted his blood as it pooled around him. A murderous rage surged through the young chef. He would not let himself get killed by rodents, not after the promise he made himself. His every instinct screamed at him to activate his aura. As he did, he observed that his aura took on an ominous black color, instead of the standard ghostly white. It was enough for the rats to retreat, squeaking in fear. The flautist stopped playing as Guy stood to his feet.

“Y-you...how--” Guy took advantage of his shock, putting him in a vicious chokehold, pumping his malicious aura into him.

“Let’s see if your rats like how YOU taste!” The chef snarled. “WELCOME TO FLAVORTOWN, FUCKER!” Whatever flavor Guy was creating, it seemed to catch the attention of the rats, who sniffed the air around them before climbing onto his neck and tearing away at it, bit by bit.

“NO! I AM YOUR MASTER! PLEASE! OBEY ME!” The man screamed desperately to his pets as he writhed in agony, but they did not listen. Eventually, they chewed through his jugular, dealing a fatal blow and ceasing his cries. Guy stood triumphantly over him, and searched his belongings, finding the coveted sixth badge.

“I’m done,” he said with bitter satisfaction. “By myself, as promised.” He turned to Menchi, who was trembling in the corner.

“Your turn.” Menchi looked up, half-expecting her rival to be brandishing a weapon at her. However, he was unarmed. “Don’t forget. I’m going to crush you in the finals.” After a brief pause, Menchi nodded, relieved to finally be back on track.

~~~

The storm began to die down as the pair finally reached the doorway to the center of the maze, or at least, they hoped it was. In contrast to the golden statues scattered about the maze, they were met with an ornate set of double doors. Either way, Menchi was simply happy to have control once more.

“Well, this is it,” said Menchi. “Now we wait.”

They didn’t have to wait long before an applicant happened by, entering through the single door at the other end of the passage. It was a young, blonde woman, armed with what appeared to be a knight’s sword and armor. Noticing the two, she stopped her approach.

“Greetings to you.” She bowed courteously. “I am Mara, prospective blacklist Hunter. I must ask you to let me pass.”

“If you’ve made it this far, you must have all six badges,” said Menchi curtly. “I want them for myself.”

“I’m afraid I won’t relinquish them without a fight,” challenged Mara, drawing her sword and assuming a fighting stance. “Shall we?”

“Fine by me.” Menchi also drew her sword from her scabbard, rolling her eyes as Mara bowed once more. Almost instantaneously, the two women exchanged a flurry of parries, almost too fast for the eye to see. Both were very skilled with their blades, but Mara was bigger and stronger, eventually managing to riposte Menchi, who dodged just before Mara’s sword could pierce her.

“You fight well,” complimented Mara as Menchi managed to block her, “but this match is mine. You may surrender your badges now. I would prefer to let you live.” Mara was visibly overpowering Menchi, making her knees buckle as she pushed with her blade. Guy was beginning to lose confidence that Menchi would win. He had to do something, but it would be hypocritical of him to interfere now. Then, suddenly, he remembered what Machi had said about the philosophy of their Troupe, _his_ Troupe.

 _“Individual lives don’t matter. The survival of the group is what matters. That’s why, when you kill a spider, you must crush its head.”_ He didn’t buy into it at the time, but now, he could see the truth behind her words. If it weren't for them, he would still be under Ramsay's heel. His ultimate goal was to forge his own path, but he had to consider those close to him. Hypocrite or no, he was a member of the Troupe, and he had to take action. Just as it looked like Menchi’s legs were about to snap in half, Guy snuck up behind Mara, grappling hook in hand, and skewered her through the back of her unarmored neck. Menchi could only look on in shock as Mara gasped for air, choking on her own blood, before death claimed her. This time, his head was clear, and the kill felt natural. Guy finally understood his place.

“Guy...what was that for?” Menchi sounded somewhat offended. “I mean, thanks and all, but what happened to the value of one’s own strength and all that crap?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the young chef attempted lamely. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m fine...for now.”

“Well, you’ll have to do better than that to earn my forgiveness,” his rival scolded. “You had me scared shitless! That came out of nowhere!”

“My path is clear,” said Guy, seemingly ignoring her. “I have other people to win for. I realize that now.”

“Oh yeah, that clears everything up,” Menchi shouted sarcastically. “Just for that, I’m going to make your defeat _twice_ as humiliating!”

“Heh, you’re on.” Guy chuckled, smiling at Menchi, who reluctantly returned the gesture.

~~~

At last, Guy and Menchi passed through the final doorway to the center, handing Knov their badges, watching as he counted them with a cold stare on his face.

“So, it seems the four of you will be competing in the final phase.” Much to Guy’s chagrin, he noticed Josuke and Tonpa had also solved the maze. Josuke simply nodded in acknowledgement, while Tonpa snickered and waved a crumpled notepad, obviously stolen off one of the rookies, in his hand. Luckily for them, Guy had calmed down.

“Had I any say in this, none of you would have passed,” snorted Knov. “There is no room for cheaters in the Hunter Association. At least, according to me.” Tracing his finger in a circular motion on the ground, he opened a black hole. “For now, you will follow me. This leads to the airship that will take you to the final phase. Chairman Netero will decide your fate from here.”

~~~

On the top deck of the airship, all the exam proctors sat in a large office around a table, deliberating over who among the applicants they thought would achieve victory.

“Knov, you’re ever the opinionated one.” The militant Tsezguerra was the first to speak. “What do you think of these maggots?”

“Hm...well, if I was forced to pick one, it would be the girl, #196,” he said. “I still don’t think much of her, but she seems like the only one prepared to accept the title of Hunter.”

“Well spoken,” Tsezguerra chuckled. “She’s promising, and athletic, but I think #77 stands out more. He looks really strong.”

“Tch, he was already blessed with Nen.” Knov began cleaning his lens. “He has an unfair edge over the other competitors. I suspect that #420 also carries Nen, so that’s half of our remaining applicants that got by on sheer luck.” He snorted haughtily.

“Now, now, Knov!” Bisky chimed in, her voice light and sugary. “There’s no rules against already knowing Nen! I think it makes the competition more exciting!” She grinned deviously. “Plus, that #77 has some guts. He attacked me without knowing my strength, so I’ll admit he’s pretty dim-witted, but he’s got spirit!”  


“B-Bisky’s right, you know,” Lin piped up. “W-we shouldn’t bring our p-personal biases into the f-final round. T-that being said, though,” he coughed nervously, “I don’t think #69 sh-should get his l-license. I c-caught him intentionally s-sabotaging the other rookies in the second phase!”

“Now that you mention it, he was going around handing strange drinks to the rookies,” Tsezguerra pondered. “Some of them seemed to have stomach problems afterward. I say good on him for weeding out the weaklings, but his performance was still shitty.”  


“At least we have common ground in that respect,” said Knov. “But what of #420? He seems like a peculiar character.”

“I-I agree,” said Lin. “He g-gave off a v-very intimidating aura! P-plus, didn’t you say his clothes were...b-b-bloody?!”

“It was quite noticeable,” Knov confirmed. “He looked unhinged as well. That a child so young has killed already is unsettling, to say the least.”

“Even so, we can only disqualify someone if they try to harm the examiner directly,” said Bisky. “There’s no rule against killing other applicants.”

“Bisky’s right,” agreed Tsezguerra. “You’d be surprised what lengths people go to to get to be called a Hunter. But if he goes on to become a murderer, you can hunt him at your discretion. Rule #4 of the Hunter Bylaws says so.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Knov. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that.” There was a brief pause as they waited for the old man at the head of the table to say his piece. He wore a bright white robe and his hair was tied back in a ponytail. However, despite his age, this man didn’t seem weak or frail in any regard.

“Hmm...most interesting,” he said thoughtfully, stroking his long beard. “They all seem to have impressive skill sets. And the fact that three out of the four are rookies is incredible!” He laughed joyfully. “But I still can’t decide what the final phase should entail.”

“ _Se mi permette, Presidente Netero._ ” Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall blond man, carrying a silver platter to the table, much to everyone’s excitement.  


“Oh? Say your piece, Chef Tonio,” said Netero.

“I’ve noticed that two of these hopefuls are aspiring chefs like myself,” said Tonio, setting down the platter. “Why not have a contest based around cooking? After all, disputes are better solved with food than with fists. It will be _magnifico!_ ” Netero stroked his beard once more.

“An excellent idea, Tonio,” he laughed deviously. “Truly, you have a craftiness to rival my own. A cooking challenge it is!”

~~~

Meanwhile, the four who had remained behind while Guy was escorted to the Hunter Exam had begun their long trek across the desert.

“Feitan’s tip better be right,” Nobunaga grumbled nasally. “These sandals weren’t meant for long walks. Plus, this damn wind is blowing sand in my eyes.”

“Oh, man up, string bean,” Uvogin chastised. “We should be there by dusk tomorrow, easily.”

“Not everyone’s built like you, Uvo,” scoffed Nobunaga.

“I don’t see Franklin or the boss complaining,” retorted Uvo. “You haven’t changed a bit since then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, you big brute? Of course I’ve changed,” said Nobunaga. “We’re fighting _against_ them now.”

“Oh yeah, you guys used to be mafiosos, didn’t you?” Franklin interjected. “What made you change your minds?”

“Well we weren’t exactly mafiosos,” the swordsman explained. “We were just hired grunts working for an underboss. The only rewarding thing I ever did was hunt down some capos who got in over their heads.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Uvo grinned broadly at the recollection. “Something about being ‘tired of taking orders from ghosts’. Those idiots thought they could plan a coup without anyone finding out, so we had to teach them a lesson. Ahh, I loved the way their puny skulls felt being crushed by my hands.”

“Yeah, but we deserted because we realized they were right, remember? That’s what led us here.”

“I see. So does that mean you don’t know anything about the Mafia’s defenses?” Franklin inquired.

“Knowing them, they’ve probably gone through a few underbosses since we left,” said Uvo. “But we’ll break through whatever defenses they have, especially with our boss backing us up.” He laughed.

“Well spoken, Uvogin,” remarked Chrollo in his cold yet charismatic voice. “A leader who lurks in the shadows is no leader at all. And that fact alone will secure the Mafia’s downfall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Author Speaks 
> 
> Hey guys! Seems I went back on my New Year's Resolution already, doesn't it? Guess it was my fault for thinking I'd have that much time to write during the semester, so I apologize if I got your hopes up too much. 
> 
> That being said, I've also been thinking about starting commissions in the meantime! Nothing too ambitious, as I'll still be busy with school and all that, just short little one-shots with a couple of thousand words or so. If you're interested, you can contact me via my Tumblr (which is on my profile). I already have the ground rules set up, so once I know enough people are interested, I'll set up a sideblog exclusively for my writing. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Hopefully I'll find time to write in the near future.
> 
> \- Joey


End file.
